This is the sort of hat to make any self-respecting pimp or glam rocker cross the street to avoid it. Strong drag queens have been known to faint on mere exposure to such a hat as this.
This is the best hat ever.
It's a black velvet cavalier hat with a sculptable brim, so I can even turn it into a hideously over-elaborate tricorne if I am feeling piratical. The underside of the brim is finished with enough gold braid to blind an Age of Sail admiral, and by the time I was done with it, it had accrued both a jade-green ostrich feather and a peacock feather. It still needs a brooch of some kind, though. But not just any brooch, oh no. And I was threatening ashacat with finishing the underside with emerald Swarovski crystals scatter-sewn in among the braid.
This is a fantastic hat. It is a caricature of a cavalier's hat. It is Entirely Unsuitable.
I'm going to be wearing it to conventions, I expect. Award ceremonies. Any excuse at all. By my hat will ye know me.
I also may have found a supplier for my long-coveted ostentatious green-velvet-and-brocade patchwork frock coat, which I have wanted ever since I saw Gene Wilder's purple velvet one.
What? A girl needs something to wear to the Hugos.
*Generally, I kind of loathe Ren Faires. But this is a stylin' hat.