Let's Bring Back the Fez

I miss my fez.  A few years ago, I was traveling in Turkey and while the other touristas were staring glassy-eyed at the ornate Turkish rugs, I had my eye on an even a bigger prize -- the fez.  This conical masterpiece even came with its own tassel -- a whisper to the world that you've graduated from the mundane.  Well, I plunked down a few coins, and soon I was the envy of, well, no one.  Frankly, you can't travel incognito with a fez.  Sadly, three years ago in a fit of patriotic fever, I tossed out the fez and I'm a poorer man for it.

"Why the fez?" , you ask.  The mighty fez replaced the sturdy turban as the hat of Turkish identity in the early nineteenth century, and, despite some quibbles, the Turks grew rather attached to it. Then Kamal Ataturk, the founder of the modern nation of Turkey,  banned the fez. Banned the fez?  It's the modern equivalent of removing Gilligan's sailor cap. 

What has happened to the spirit of fashion-forward haberdashery?  Today, American men have only three choices.  The ubiquitous baseball cap. (Backwards, sideways and forwards), the Kangol -- or better known as the Samuel Jackson, and the Panama hat, which oddly enough is made in Ecuador.  Occasionally, someone will don a beret.  Oh, the cowboy hat -- in all it's variations is still big with country music stars, and believe it or not, real cowboys. 

As a country,  aren't we more creative than that?    What about the Sherlock Holmes look?  Didn't Bogie and Indiana Jones look good in a fedora? Well, as the standard bearer of the great hat movement and obviously its only member,  I put forward these classy inspirations.   I leave it to you, America, to  continue with my  fashion-foward work. Good luck.  P.S. The bandana does not qualify.