Bowler me over

Much to the surprise of those who associate the bowler with post-war City types, the hat's origins are entirely rural, discovers Matthew Dennison

- Matthew Dennison

COMMISSIONED in the 1950s to illustrate Pierre Daninos’s bestselling ‘Major Thompson’ novels—affectionate caricatures of a retired British army officer—German-born cartoonist Walter Goetz equipped the character with two unmistakeable indicators of Britishness: a tightly furled umbrella and a bowler hat. To readers around the globe, the impeccably dressed, lanky, Times-reading Major could hail from only one island.

By the 1950s, the bowler hat was firmly established as an icon of Britishness. Today, 175 years after the hat’s invention, this remains the case—although the combination of a bowler hat and furled umbrella is usually seen on British streets only on Remembrance Sunday, when retired army officers (much like Maj Thompson) partner the distinctive domed, stiff-brimmed hats with dark or pin-striped suits, to remember conflicts past and those who gave their lives in the nation’s service.

Perhaps there is something appropriate in such an association of this particular item of headwear and conflict. Throughout its history, the sturdy bowler—once made from layers of shellac—has offered its wearer a degree of protection, including from the weather. It is one reason the hat enjoyed some popularity in the hunting field and is part of the uniform at puppy and hound shows, smart with a huntsman’s kennel coat or judge’s suit.

To the surprise of those who associate the bowler hat with post-war City types, the hat’s origins are entirely rural. In 1849, the bowler hat was designed to be worn in thickets and coverts rather than on London streets or commuter-station platforms. Its uses were both practical and protective; function rather than appearance shaped its unmistakable silhouette.