Interesting article from the Australian paper 'The Age':
A beanie and brolly in one, the beret's still hot, Sam
Vincent writes.
THE BERET might just be the world's most useful hat. Far
from a mere circle of felt clinging precariously to the head, it can be
arranged to protect its wearer from sun, rain and cold. It also makes a handy
dish.
Most importantly, when rolled up like a newspaper it
becomes a formidable weapon (naughty French children are threatened not with
the wooden spoon, but a caning from the chapeau).
The Musee du Beret is France's homage to this helpful
headwear. Housed in the village of Nay in the Pyrenean region of Bearn, it provides a lovable and amusing
history of the hat. Even before I enter the museum, I see two men clad in black
berets, sitting in the village square sharing a joke. In between laughs they
carefully adjust their hats.
Inside the museum, any doubts about the practicality of
the beret are dispelled once visitors are shown the introductory film
recounting its many functions. One cheerful farmer says: "When you are
young, your beret is perfect for collecting cherries. When you become old, it
is perfect for belting those who steal your cherries!"
Legend has it that the very first beret was made from the
wool of the lamb Noah housed in his ark. Around AD1280 a figure wearing a beret
was carved into the church of Bellocq in Bearn,
providing the first official recording of the hat. By the second half of the
19th century, large-scale beret factories operated in a handful of towns in Bearn, including in the
building that now houses the museum. It is still in this region, and in the
neighbouring French Basque country, that the beret is most commonly seen,
proudly flaunted in paddocks and on footpaths alike.
It is ironic that a symbol so profoundly linked to French
patriotism in the eyes of the world is actually used by the Basques and
Bearnaise to assert their cultural individuality. Most Basques see themselves
as culturally independent from France
and Spain.
The Bearnaise, too, consider their culture unique, being
a traditionally Protestant minority with a language related to Occitan, not
French.
I pose this to the museum's curator, a tall Bearnaise
woman with a black beret slung over her left ear.
She frowns on hearing my question, nodding. "During
World War II the beret was a symbol of the French Resistance, and I think for
many foreigners this image has stuck. Sure, you do see berets on the streets of
Paris and Bordeaux,
but for the people of Bearn
and the Basque country, it is different. It is a reminder of who we are."
But the beret does more than just display regional
identity. Everyone has their own style, and it is said that the position of the
hat can even indicate the wearer's emotional state. Apparently, a beret slung
down towards the eyes denotes depression, while one worn high on the head gives
an air of confidence to its wearer. It can even be incorporated into arguments,
with a popular trick to spin it around on the head - a sign of unspeakable
frustration.
As with most revered utensils, the production of the
beret is a long and complicated process. In the first step, natural coloured
wool is wound around a coil and mounted on needles, which stitch the beret
together through a series of "slices".
In the olden days these machines were powered by water or
hand. The museum has a still functioning example, handsomely painted British
racing green like a locomotive.
At this stage the beret looks like a tatty piece of
hessian, so to achieve felting, or "fulling", it is submerged into a
tub of soapy water and pounded by a special mallet. Next the beret is dyed
(always black in Bearn
since about the 13th century). The beret is then shaped in a large press,
before being "shaved" and ironed to achieve the smooth finished
texture.
In Bearn
and the Basque country, I haven't seen many youngsters wearing the beret, so I
ask the curator if she thinks it is a dying tradition. "Not at all,"
she interrupts strongly before I can finish.
"Young people are still wearing the beret, it's just
that its role is changing. Because there are less of us working on the farms,
we instead wear our berets to parties and other special occasions. Why would I
stop using a hat that can act as a beanie and umbrella at the same time?"
After finishing in the museum, guests are encouraged to
peruse its shop, where hundreds of berets wait on stands for prospective
owners. When I am thrown one to try on, I unwittingly learn perhaps the beret's
greatest use as it whizzes towards me. Not a bad frisbee at all.