Kentucky Smith™ may not be as famous as that Jones guy from across the river in Indiana, but he wears a better-looking hat.

There are other differences. Kentucky Smith™ maintains a tropical state of mind at all times, in all places. Almost like a religion. Makes Jimmy Buffett look like Nanook of the North.

In Tibet, Kentucky’s unusual wardrobe choices won him the awed respect of local lamas who could clearly see the challenges of white linen shorts and vintage rayon aloha shirts at 18,000 feet. Very Zen. Naturally, he wears a Panama hat.

The hat shown here is his choice for serious adventures in outrageous places. Places where a blackberry is still something to eat. When he is in town for business meetings, he wears a Montecristi version of the same style.

He switches back to the been-through-hell Safari hat when he goes out at night. Chick magnet. (Tell her the A1 Sauce stain on your brim is blood. From the Congo in ’03. Don’t say whose. Be brave.)

Look at the pictures. You can see for yourself you’ll be in the middle of some sort of adventure within an hour of putting it on. You’ll be the one whose hat everyone envies.

Specs—Hand blocked. My hands. Same classic crown as my Classic Fedora. 4 ½ inches tall, mas o menos. Pinch front. Dimples to die for. Tear drop top. Safari brim 3 to 3 ¼ inches wide, woven edge. Jamaica Brown ribbon 1 ½ inches wide, hand sewn. Brown fine leather sweatband, hand sewn. Weave count comparable to some of my hand-blocked Montecristi hats. This is a serious hat.

My most popular style in a Safari Edition. Yes, tickertape parades would be in order were it not for modesty and a sense of environmental responsibility. This is a hat you need to put on the short list.

Why would you want the Safari Edition rather than the Montecristi Edition? Good question.

Okay, I’ll help you out. They look great. Even though it is the same style, the Cocoa and Caramel colors are a completely different look. They probably hook up with a whole different section of your closet than the light-straw-black-ribbon classic Panama hat look.

Field tested in Hawaii. I made a couple of Classic Fedoras SE for myself. Put a wide black ribbon on one. A wide brown ribbon on the other. Cotton twill sweatbands in both. I’ve been wearing one or the other, sometimes both, about once a week for a couple of years. Who knows how many Mai Tai’s they have survived?

These don’t show dirt as much as traditional near-white Panama hats. I often reach for one of these when it’s windy enough that my hat might undertake unmanned flights, and landings in places where I wouldn’t want my hat to be.

I don’t coddle these hats like I do some of my Montecristi personal hats. Maybe I’ve been lucky. Maybe I haven’t abused them as much as I think. But if I have to choose one of these or one of my Montecristis to go banging around in the bush, or to put into an overhead luggage compartment, no contest, amigo mio.

No guarantees, either. I don’t recommend putting any hat into any overhead luggage compartment. Who knows what’s up there? Body parts maybe. Weapons grade plutonium maybe. No nail clippers.

I’m just saying: got a gun to my head, I go with the Classic Fedora SE.

As you can see, changing the ribbon color and/or width changes the look, changes the personality of the hat. And perhaps your own as well. Sorry, ribbons are not interchangeable. Choose your favorite color. Or order lots of hats.

Ordering six would not be considered excessive.

Not by me. It is possible to imagine, if one stretches the mind, that there may be some wife or husband somewhere who might consider six hats all at once to be excessive.

Fashion is like Physics. Some people just don’t get it.

Find perfect. Make a decision. Take a position.

You may quote me if it helps. Call it Black’s 12^th Hyperbole. Makes it sound almost indisputable. If that doesn’t work, play Randy Newman’s You Can Leave Your Hat On, and act accordingly. If that doesn’t work either, you’re back to choosing your favorite color.

Let me know how it goes.

Specs—Hand blocked. My hands. 4 inches tall, mas o menos. Pinch front. Dimples to die for. Tear drop top. Snap brim 2¾ to 3 inches wide, woven edge. Many choices of ribbons, hand sewn. Brown fine leather sweatband, hand sewn. Weave count comparable to some of my hand-blocked Montecristi hats. This is a serious hat.

The Cocoa straw and the Ivory ribbon were made for each other, yes?

Major fashion statement. Very tropical. Craves linen and silk.

The classic Optimo dome and center crease evoke thoughts of British ex-pats presiding over the warmer colonies. This particular look suggests India to my mind. What one might wear after a hard day of Bengal Lancing.

Freshen up a bit, then swan over to the Officer’s Club for an India Pale Ale, or two. Or twelve. Sit near a window, with the light coming from your side. Side light shows off the center crease better than front or back light.

No matter how many compliments and free rounds come your way, do call it a night well before you are at risk of falling down and wrecking the hat.

I hope your first thought wasn’t: “Can I roll it up?” Yes. If you must. But it looks so crisply shaped, so sharply creased, so smoothly rounded, so…perfect, just as it is. Why risk it? You’ve made it this far in your life without rolling a Cocoa Optimo with an Ivory ribbon, maybe you shouldn’t tempt the Fates.

Specs—Hand blocked. My hands. 4¼ inches tall, mas o menos. Snap brim 2¾ to 3+ inches wide, woven edge. Many choices of ribbons, hand sewn. Brown fine leather sweatband, hand sewn. Weave count comparable to some of my hand-blocked Montecristi hats.This is a serious hat.

The ancient, the legendary, the dilapidated, the damn near roofless—Mombasa Café. Have you been there? The great ones all stop by when they’re in town. Stanley, Livingston, Burton, Speke, Rhodes, Quatermain, and the others.

They are drawn by a fireplace roaring as needed in the rainy season, the most comfortable hand-carved wood chairs in the world, the best cup of coffee in a thousand miles, cold Tusker on tap, and a cellar full of big oak barrels of extraordinarily-well-aged Jamaican rum that may or may not have disappeared from the hold of a British merchant ship in port for a few days in the summer of 1921.

As an extra bonus, the food won’t kill you. Mostly. There have been exceptions.

No one comes in without a hat. You just don’t muck about in the noonday sun of equatorial Africa without a hat. Even mad dogs and Englishmen wear hats. As a general rule, the Englishmen look better in theirs. They are also less likely to chew them up in an absent moment. Though some do.

The prevailing style of choice is the Mombasa of course. Classic center dent crown, generous dimples, safari brim, wide ribbon. Some favor a hand-blocked Montecristi Mombasa. The one shown here is called the Mombasa Café, because this is the kind they sell at— you guessed it, the Mombasa Café.

These are hand woven, genuine Panama hats, dyed a dirt-defying, café-con-leche color. Brims are folded and sewn with a plastic thing inside the outer edge to hold the brim shape. Hats are woven, shaped, and finished in Cuenca, Ecuador. Black grosgrain ribbon 13⁄8 inches wide, cloth sweatband inside, brim 3 inches wide. The hat I chose at random has a count of 15×23.

You know what? This is a good hat. I have worn this hat myself and have received compliments. I like the feel of it. Some of my friends pronounced this more their kind of hat than the higher priced Montecristi hats. Fair enough. It’s a good hat. It’s a good price.

Stanley wears these. He buys 8 or 10 each time he passes through the Mombasa Cafe between expeditions. Like any sensible person with an addiction, he doesn’t want to run out.

He knows at least two will be stolen, a hazard of wearing a great hat into areas where there are no hats. He will have to give three or four as presents to tribal chiefs who won’t take no for an answer, and through whose territory he must pass. He may have to leave one or two behind on a tree branch to fool hostile warriors while he runs like hell.

It’s good to have more than one of a great thing. Especially true if it is reasonably priced. Imperative if one doesn’t want to run out.

Livingston, being a Scot, prefers the lower priced Mombasa Beach shown next.

Mombasa is a port city on the east coast of Kenya. The best beaches are south of town. Tiwi Beach. Diani Beach. A few others are worth a look. Bring a hat.

Last March, a hatless Swede went walking on Diani Beach. He left his hotel around 1pm and returned a little after 3pm. He was seven and three-eighths inches shorter when he returned than when he left. He had lost no weight. He was bigger around. He had been compressed downward by the intensity of the equatorial afternoon sun. His body had expanded outward. A new wardrobe would be needed.

Don’t take a chance. Wear a hat.

The Mombasa Beach Panama hat comes to mind. Classic center dent crown, generous dimples, safari brim, wide black ribbon. By coincidence, there are photos of the Mombasa Beach to the left.

The light color reflects the sun, the generous brim creates welcome shade, the classic styling invites envy. Put on a Mombasa Beach in the morning, and you’ll be the same height when you come home at night. No matter how hot the sun is in your neighborhood.

This is also a hat you can keep wearing when the sun goes down and the heat moves inside. This is a hat that knows how to dance.

These are hand woven, genuine Panama hats, bleached pretty close to white. Soft. Brims are folded and sewn with a plastic thing inside the outer edge to hold the brim shape. Hats are shaped and finished in Cuenca, Ecuador. Black grosgrain ribbon 13⁄8 inches wide, cloth sweatband inside, brim 3 inches wide. Weave count is 15×23, may vary from hat to hat. For many, this is what a Panama hat is supposed to be.

Livingston wears these. As a man of God, he needs a righteous hat. What could be more righteous in the tropics than a Panama hat?

Last time we talked he was writing a hymn about his hat. Soon, you will sing the praises of your own.