Stephen Jones

Peter Hunt/Peterhuntimage.com

Off at a sprint to the V&A for the opening of Hats: An Anthology by Stephen Jones, a ravishing exhibition of, you've guessed it, hats, curated by the leading London milliner. (Ceclin Beaton was the first to curate a fashion exhibition for the V&A in 1971. My mother went to that and I still have the catalogue).

The centerpiece is a recreation of the hatter's workroom. In vitrines all around, arranged as if one were wondering through millinery shops are glorious hats, arranged not by chronology but by the story of the process from the idea to the head, titles Inspiration, Creation, The Salon, The Client.

My eye was drawn to a jaunty red and white straw hat topped with silk flowers from Madame Suzy of Paris in the 30s and a map of Britain, made out of perspex and titled "Blightly" by Jones himself. A crazy nest of hot pink feathers from 1995 by Philip Treacy, who interned briefly with Jones, still looked box fresh, which is what I think you say about hats. I spotted a little bonnet, from 1890 in garnet velvet trimmed with black glass which was utterly ravishing.

But why did a big squashy hessian hat to wear while gardening, with seed pockets stuck in the brim, look particularly familiar? Ah yes, for Style & Design's Globetrotter issue (Nov. 2008) I interviewed an Australian fashion retailer called Belinda Seper, who doesn't just travel the world buying clothes, she also has a sideline as a florist with just the sort of little country store, (called Twigg and Blossom) that fashion people dream of opening one day (other than that they want to open tea shops-it really is curious how many people in fashion, where people don't eat much, think that one day they'll be serving cakes, to people who do). Belinda wore her beloved and well-worn Stephen Jones hat (titled Sew & Sew, I noted from the exhibition notes) to be photographed. Time ran alternative pictures of her sans chapeaux, but it's nice to have the evidence that you can go a long way in a good hat (11,000 miles to Sydney and then a two hour drive into the hills in this case).

Alas, the fashion clock was ticking, so I couldn't linger longer. I'm coming back to the V&A next week once there's time to breathe because this exhibition is a delight not to be rushed.