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Laurence Bossion's diary, chapter 9
At Laurence Bossion's place on Rue Saint Roch, like everywhere else in Paris, we know what March has in store: it hesitates, changes its mind, and plays hard to get. In Paris, with its oceanic climate, we go from sunshine to showers in less time than it takes to complain about it: a Paris–Brest in less than a second, without cream and rarely with joy. As a result, moods follow the weather, and we find ourselves dreaming of something very simple and very healthy... to get away. Two days. To breathe. And, while we're at it, to leave well-hatted.
A Living Heritage Company, Laurence Bossion's work is based on a very delicate relationship with materials: they are observed, accompanied, and given time to find their shape. The gesture is precise without being rigid: it guides, suggests, and allows the form to emerge with the calm assurance of things well done. Each hat becomes a unique piece, almost a small portable sculpture: designed to be adopted, lived with, taken along, and photographed without effort.
For March, we have chosen five hats and five capitals: a weekend, a look, and a story. Five destinations where we will verify a reassuring truth: when the weather is unpredictable, elegance can remain serene and stable.
Prague — Kafka's hat
With its surreal look, inspired by the face of Janus, Laurence Bossion's black felt hat is just right in Prague. A literary city by nature, you cross the Charles Bridge with a very baroque seriousness, climb up to St. Vitus Cathedral to get a bird's eye view, then head to the Kafka Museum to see that the absurd can be perfectly organized. In Josefov, the old synagogue clears your mind, before a Prague café methodically clouds it again. Prague has a rare talent: it makes everything more intelligent, even a simple weekend.
Venice — revealing its refined taste
In Venice, Laurence Bossion's pointed red felt hat becomes a familiar sight. A sharp nod to the Commedia dell'Arte, it embodies a contemporary Colombina, lively and elusive. It darts through the calli, attracts attention, disappears behind a bridge. A romantic chase through the Venetian maze: we follow it, we lose it. Here, elegance is never a costume, but an intrigue.
We come for Tintoretto, for La Fenice, for the palaces that tell tales of centuries of intrigue, and we end up wandering aimlessly through the calli, proud to look like we know where we're going. The red felt does the rest: in Venice, daring to be elegant is not only allowed, it's almost a local obligation.
Rome — big-screen elegance and la dolce vita
In Rome, this graphic straw hat with wide brims and a garnet bow tied with Italian rigor has everything it takes to adorn a star. Its clean, protective trapezoidal shape conceals part of the face: the eyes are barely visible (a pair of dark glasses already protects it from the Roman sun). With it, you immediately achieve that very Cinecittà blend of distance and charm.
You wear it on Via Veneto, where you walk slowly, deliberately, then on to the Trevi Fountain, pretending not to care too much (when in fact you care a great deal). It also loves the perfect shade of the Pantheon, the quiet solemnity of the Palazzo Farnese, and the paths of the Villa Borghese, where elegance breathes more easily. In Rome, la dolce vita is a discipline: short espressos, measured steps, carefully chosen glances. And this hat does exactly what it should: it protects from the sun... and from the mundane.
Seville — mystery and sophistication for an Andalusian wedding
In Spain, and even more so in Seville, a wedding is more about style than timing. Guests arrive late, stay late, and observe each other closely, with perfectly assumed dedication. This large black felt hat with clean lines, extended by a light fringe of jeweled chains that filters the gaze, is perfectly suited to this ceremony. It evokes Andalusian elegance: warmth, poise, and controlled mystery.
Beneath this wide brim, the face is half revealed, just enough. We cross a patio, linger near an orange tree, listen without seeming to. In Seville, elegance is never innocent: this hat accepts the principle with grace. It does not seek to steal the show: it simply reminds us that, at an Andalusian wedding, style is always a bit of a statement.
London — an arty dandy getaway
In London, even the classics take a wicked pleasure in rebelling. This fedora is proof of that: impeccable shape, very appropriate black ribbon, and suddenly, this bold tie-dye, like perfectly well-behaved insubordination. It starts out as a gentleman and ends up as an artist: that's exactly the standard London trajectory.
You wear it to the Tate Modern with an air of sophistication, stroll through the Royal Academy as if you've just come from an exhibition opening, then head to Shoreditch, where painted walls rival the silhouettes. It passes through Dover Street Market, descends to Soho when the night gets serious, and ends up in a club in Dalston, where that very English blend of dandyism and insolence still lingers. Because here, elegance has learned a lot from music: a little from the Beatles, a lot from Bowie, and that very confident way of mixing refinement with disorder. This hat knows the lesson well, it holds its line, but never too straight.
We meet at Laurence Bossion's shop on Rue Saint-Roch in Paris to choose the hat that will defy March: one that, instead of suffering the weather, faces it with a smile.
