Cornette, and: Fedora, and: Bowler, and: Borsalino, and: Homburg
2023; University of Missouri; Volume: 46; Issue: 3 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1353/mis.2023.a909058
ISSN1548-9930
Autores Tópico(s)Renaissance Literature and Culture
ResumoCornette, and: Fedora, and: Bowler, and: Borsalino, and: Homburg Mike Schneider (bio) Cornette The flying nun was real. Few of usknew that. In 1620 in her habitof wanting to be ethereal, when ethermeant high reaches of sky & wasn'tan anesthetic, Sister María of Ágredain her woolen blue Superwomancape launched herself to West Texas—though it wasn't yet Texas. I seldomwatched TV when beloved Sally Fieldas Sister Bertrille—in a wimple creasedas if her head had white, delta-shapedwings—felt a twitch behindher ear & with a swooshy soundwould spread her arms & soaramong clouds. In West Texasto the Jumanos, who lived there centuriesbefore Puritans imagined a Shining Cityon a Hill, Sister María was "the Ladyin Blue." To this day, solemn churchmensay she "bilocated," meaning she waswith the Jumanos while still in Spain,where the rain falls mainlyin the plain. In high school, no onetaught me to get high. What I knowis when lift plus thrust is morethan load plus drag, anything can fly. [End Page 65] Fedora Like a badge that says privatedetective, aka dick, such as SamSpade, this hat with its satin-banded,creased crown is most itselfwhen thugs play film noirwith the gumshoe who snatched itoff his rack & stepped out for a mugof scalded black java. Next scene:his torso—a sack of spuds in an alley,two goons kicking it, stompingwith polished brown brogues. Knockedfrom its perch, the fedora spins awaylike a top, teeters & flopsto rest beside a tin trashcan, toppedby a battered lid, three am, a grittycity like Pittsburgh. Headlightsflare from the boulevard. A sirenDopplers closer. In Chinatown,Nicholson as Jake Gittes wore gray,pin-striped wool when Polanskias a white-fedoraed half-pint toughguy wisecracked, "You're a very nosyfellow, kitty cat. Huh?" & flick-knifedthe dick's left nostril. In the Sundayfunnies, Tracy's dapper topper,canary yellow with a black satin band,complemented his two-way wrist radio& best girl, Tess Trueheart. Sinatrahad one too. He wore it his way. [End Page 66] Bowler When Oddjob flings his bowlerin Goldfinger, it leaps from his hand& sails like a Frisbee across a meadow& hovers, or seems to, like a dreamin which the dreamer flies—unboundby gravity, a feeling of freedomoften taken as desire for the joyfulnessof sex, luxurious, fleeting secondsin which you imagine however brieflyexistence as this moment going on& on, as if you were a condor, liftedon an updraft over the Andesto surf waves of sky & stayas long as you like, no hurry, notrying. But suddenly, as warningto Bond, Oddjob's razor-edged, flyingbowler slices off the head of a marbleGreek goddess, helmeted Athena, I think,& realize it's the same bowler in Kundera'sUnbearable Lightness, the movie—Lena Olinas Sabina with Tomás, her in black lingerietopped with a plum-brown bowler. In her Parisstudio, they remember the clank & squeakof plated steel on cobblestone, Prague Spring,1968, when they played dodge with tanks,the bowler as souvenir & remembranceof when they made love almost in tearsamid the violence, her in that hat from the lifeof their fathers & grandfathers & their fathers too. [End Page 67] Borsalino How can you not like a hatnamed Borsalino?—evenif it weren't a hat. Say, forinstance, it's a cat namedBorsalino. You'd respectthat cat, even if you don'tlike how it rubs against youwhen it wants something& otherwise avoids youas if you're a fact no onewants to face, such as myselfthis morning in the bathroommirror. I liked what I sawwell enough, even thoughI do nothing as wildfires rage& millions die from an invisiblekiller—not even alive, really,a parasite molecular thingthat wants to have a dinnerparty—with me as host. Wehave more to fear, in other words,than fear. We have fire, wild red...
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