Hat Head
/The snow is falling outside; majestic in it's quiet as it blankets the ground with its icy embrace. Occasionally the wind picks up and I watch a snow devil dance across the driveway.
There is no sunshine, only a sea of bland whiteness. You can barely distinguish where land ends and the horizon begins. White, white, everywhere you look.
It's my favourite time of year. For many reasons but mostly because it's the one time of year I don't have to worry about my hair.
Hi, my name is Tanis Miller and I am addicted to the toque. It's my Canadian crack, my hoser apparel. It is cozy and colour and I don't really care if my head is too big or if I get strange looks.
My head is warm.
I'm old enough to know that the only important fashion statement a rural Canadian needs to make is not to have frostbite.
My kids don't get it. They'd rather lose digits than bundle up. It's a fight to get them to zip up their jackets, even as the Arctic wind slices through their skin. Their youth breeds a toughness and stupidity that has long since worn off from me. I'm weak. I need warmth.
I need a toque. Luckily for me, I have more than I can count. Literally.
There is my lucky toque, saved for high school game day:
There is the grocery store toque, mostly worn when I realize one of my children chugged the remains of the milk and put the empty jug back into the refrigerator:
There is the silly toque, worn especially for when I know I'll need to wander the halls of their high school and say hello to all their friends:
There is the Great White North toque, for when I need to channel a little Bob and Doug into my life:
The toque for the days a little fierceness is required to face the day:
Then there is the silly:
And the refined:
And the one you keep stealing from your daughter, just to watch her twitch:
I've got a toque for every occasion. And when none of the other toques will do, there is always the traditional toque. The Canadian classic. Because everyone should shake a pompon in life's freak parade, especially when it's below zero outside:
I'll admit it; I love putting on a good toque. But even more than that, I love pulling it off.
There is nothing quite like a little hat hair to make a girl smile and remind her not to take life so seriously.
The toque is the bikini of the North and I'll rock it proudly.
So if you live in a cold climate, have no fear. We're all ego-less as we shiver together. Go forth and shake that pompon. You'll be surprised how good it feels. Especially if your kids are watching.
There is no sunshine, only a sea of bland whiteness. You can barely distinguish where land ends and the horizon begins. White, white, everywhere you look.
It's my favourite time of year. For many reasons but mostly because it's the one time of year I don't have to worry about my hair.
Hi, my name is Tanis Miller and I am addicted to the toque. It's my Canadian crack, my hoser apparel. It is cozy and colour and I don't really care if my head is too big or if I get strange looks.
My head is warm.
I'm old enough to know that the only important fashion statement a rural Canadian needs to make is not to have frostbite.
My kids don't get it. They'd rather lose digits than bundle up. It's a fight to get them to zip up their jackets, even as the Arctic wind slices through their skin. Their youth breeds a toughness and stupidity that has long since worn off from me. I'm weak. I need warmth.
I need a toque. Luckily for me, I have more than I can count. Literally.
There is my lucky toque, saved for high school game day:
There is the grocery store toque, mostly worn when I realize one of my children chugged the remains of the milk and put the empty jug back into the refrigerator:
There is the silly toque, worn especially for when I know I'll need to wander the halls of their high school and say hello to all their friends:
There is the Great White North toque, for when I need to channel a little Bob and Doug into my life:
The toque for the days a little fierceness is required to face the day:
Then there is the silly:
And the refined:And the one you keep stealing from your daughter, just to watch her twitch:
I've got a toque for every occasion. And when none of the other toques will do, there is always the traditional toque. The Canadian classic. Because everyone should shake a pompon in life's freak parade, especially when it's below zero outside:
I'll admit it; I love putting on a good toque. But even more than that, I love pulling it off.
There is nothing quite like a little hat hair to make a girl smile and remind her not to take life so seriously.
The toque is the bikini of the North and I'll rock it proudly.
So if you live in a cold climate, have no fear. We're all ego-less as we shiver together. Go forth and shake that pompon. You'll be surprised how good it feels. Especially if your kids are watching.