There's a line in You've Got Mail (which has been playing over and over on cable this week) in which Meg Ryan's character says, "it [a butterfly on the subway] was going to Bloomingdale's to buy a hat, which would be a mistake, as all hats are."

She's wrong.

I'm a hat person. I love hats. I had to forcibly restrain myself from buying a huge purple hat yesterday (complete with netting), suitable perhaps for a posh wedding in Britain, but completely inappropriate for the Midwest. Still, it was a wonderful hat.

In college, I wore baseball caps all the time. In high school, there are rumors I might have been fond of a beret.

This week I bought a cowboy hat (made in China of paper, apparently, but it looks like straw) for that Madonna-at-the-State-Fair look. It's my fourth hat of the summer (two bucket hats from Land's End and a beach hat from Banana Republic were purchased earlier and have been worn a number of times).

When you put on a funky hat, you're making a statement. You're saying you're willing to be noticed. That you're confident enough to have people look at you - to stand out from the crowd and look a little different.

I love hats.