Letter To Calvin Klein Regarding Stovepipe Hats

Dearest Calvin,

You may or may not have heard, but I've recently been cast in an off off off Broadway production (technically it's in Bend, Oregon) called Lincoln: The Man They Named A City In Nebraska After (the title is still being debated, a little on the nose for my taste). I play Lincoln. And in doing so I've become incredibly familiar with an item the world of fashion has forgotten for far too long. The stovepipe hat.

I don't need to tell you that fashion is pretty much a ridiculous carousel of recycling, ridicule, and theft. One minute bell bottoms are a Halloween costume, the next Ashton Kutcher's got them on at a Laker game. It certainly doesn't take a genius to see that your industry is just pillaging the past, more or less in order, to keep the production lines humming. Not that I'm complaining. I happen to save everything, so I've simply had to dig into my old wardrobe to keep 'up to date' (very much looking forward to the day I can put on the old parachute pants again).

But instead of yet another look at the 60's, 70's, or 80's, I'm proposing you dig a little deeper when seeking your 'inspiration' for the spring line: the 1860's, a decade of real sophistication and casual elegance (even those rebel uniforms were pretty snazzy). And nothing says 1860 like the stovepipe, which I'm confident your branding ability could turn into the must have item for next year. Get Charlieze Theron to wear one to the Oscars, Fifty Cent to slap one on in a video and the next thing you know, Cha-ching!

But I'm not in this for financial reward. I want you to keep every penny. I just want to wear the hat. I've never really had a good head for hats: baseball and cowboy styles have always fit me like lampshades. So you can imagine my surprise when I first donned my Lincoln costume and discovered that the stovepipe looked like a majestic extension of my body. Sadly, the few times I've worn it out I think that people have been too distracted by its oddity to really notice how damn good I look while wearing it. I went to a bar the other night with some of the guys and though a couple of girls did make comments about the hat, they were generally not positive and I did not return with any numbers. But I'm telling you, if this were the 1860's I'm confident I'd be beating them off with a stick.

That's where you can make a difference. With your approval and energy, the stovepipe can become ubiquitous again, and rather than focusing on the hat, people will finally focus on me, looking amazing in the hat. I'm an aging man Mr. Klein. I've found the key to unlocking my potential late in life, but not, with your help, too late. The stovepipe can be the beginning of a revolution for us both - helping you add millions to the millions you already have (maybe not such a revolution for you) and helping me meet that someone special and finally move out of my old room at mom's house. All I ask is that you find one and try it on. If the site of yourself with this fabric cylinder, this halo for mortal men, this small portion of chimney coming out of your head, doesn't convince you that this should be the cornerstone of your upcoming efforts, I dare say not only the fashion industry, but America herself, will have lost her way.