A cool hat is in the eye of the beholder: Kim Crow

I know, I know: Be careful of what you wish for. But I have this bad habit of thinking that some rules don't apply to me.


At least, that's what my husband, Ted, says.

And Ted's been saying a lot lately, ever since I packed my pride away like last year's baby-doll dress and asked for his help in developing a workout regimen.

While there may be rules I conveniently ignore, I do know when someone's expertise outstrips my own and am usually an obedient student. Ted has proven to be an inspired instructor, if one rather overly insistent on the importance of slightly bent knees.

Because of this, there's been a slight shift in our personal dynamics. I was his supervisor at work before we got married -- oh, the scandal! -- and, well, let's just say that some things never change until circumstances force them to. Turns out our circumstances involve barbells, exercise balls and running shoes.

Please don't worry; I am not about to morph into one of those self-satisfied exercise fanatics who walk around in brightly colored Lycra separates. I just had to set the scene so you can better understand The Hat.

OK, so The Hat.

Just a few weeks into the Ted Crow Personal Trainer Era, I drove off for a day of summer fun, and stupidly forgot to close the garage door. One of Ted's bikes was stolen -- not the fancy one, thank goodness, but his workhorse mountain bike.

I felt terrible, and offered to replace it for his birthday, which was just a few weeks away.

"It's not that big a deal, I can fix up my old one," he said, kind as always. "But what I'd really like is a hat."

A hat! When it comes to input on exercise, I have nothing to offer. But fashion? It was just the sort of lifeline I needed in my summer of ignorance.

"What kind of hat? A trilby? A fedora? A porkpie? Or maybe one of those sun-blocking baseball caps?" Oh, this was going to be fun.

"It's like a baseball hat, but it's a bike hat," he said. "It has a short brim that sort of flips up. It's really cool-looking; it comes in really bright colors."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't matter. I've long wished he shared my interest in fashion. Perhaps finding common ground in one area of interest -- like exercise -- would lead us to others!

That month, I looked for this hat at my usual shopping places, but didn't see anything likely. I needed more information.

"So tell me more about this short-brimmed hat," I said in the middle of one of our workout sessions, also figuring he wouldn't notice I was doing sets of 10, not 12 as instructed.

"They usually come in bright colors. I don't know how else to describe them," he said, and then, "That's not 12, Kimmy."


"It's the kind of hat that Wesley wore in 'White Men Can't Jump,' " he continued. "It's a really cool hat."

Armed with the dismaying knowledge that my husband takes his fashion cues from a 17-year-old movie starring Wesley Snipes and Woody Harrelson, I headed to the bike store.

"I'm looking for a short-brimmed hat . . . Ted saw it in a Wesley Snipes movie . . . "

"Oh, yeah, 'White Men Can't Jump,' " replied the guy. "Great movie. Great hat."

They had rows of them, in the most garish color combinations imaginable. Purple with a rainbow stripe down the middle, neon pink printed with black Eiffel Towers, yellow with orange stripes, lime green with purple checkerboard patterns, each more awful than the next.

He doesn't know what he wants, I decided, always the manager. He'd never wear a yellow hat emblazoned with hot pink stars. I dug through the racks and triumphantly came up with one in khaki, with a black stripe down the center.

But on his birthday, after he tried the hat on, I sensed it wasn't exactly what he wanted. Did I get the wrong thing?

"No, it's great, Kimmy," he said. "It's just that Wesley's hat was a really bright orange . . . maybe it had purple stripes?"

"But that's so tacky!" I replied, astonished.

"It's a cool hat."

Then my stepson walked in.

"Cool hat! It's like 'White Men Can't Jump,' right? "

Apparently, BOTH the men in my life take their fashion cues from a 17-year-old movie starring Wesley Snipes.

The other week, I moved up a weight level in the bench press. As I struggled in my final set, I squeezed my eyes shut, searching for the strength to do more.

"Keep your eyes open, Kimmy!" encouraged Ted. "Pick a focal point, take a deep breath."

I opened my eyes to see his face hovering above me, the ever-present hat on his head, its silly short brim flipped up.

"It's better if I keep my eyes closed," I gasped out.

So while The Hat may be one of the most successful apparel-related gifts I've given Ted, it's still a silly-looking hat. I may not know the difference between a reverse curl and a fly curl, but this I know.