ExclusiveThe Conical Hat: Quiet Beauty in Vietnamese Culture | Vietnam within Us
A conical hat is carved on the Ngoc Lu bronze drum. Since then it has changed shape, from the wide-brimmed quai thao hat to the pointed one most of us picture today.
Every hat starts with palm leaves pressed flat and sixteen bamboo hoops, then sewn with small, even stitches. In Hue, makers slip a line of poetry between two layers of leaf, and it shows only when the hat is held up to the sun.
It kept off the rain, and when its owner sat down to rest, it became a fan. Come sit with us a while and look again at this humble hat.
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One everyday object has followed Vietnamese women
through more generations than anyone can count.
From right-grip spills
and village roads to the lows of street vendors in the city,
it shields them from sun and rain
and tilts quietly down to lend grace to a young woman's face,
so familiar that we sometimes forget it is there.
This is the conical hat.
Today, Vietnam Within Us invites you to look again at this humble hat
because in every fold of its sleeve lies a figure
that is deeply Vietnamese and deeply feminine.
The conical hat has a very long history.
Its earliest form is carved on the Ngọc Lũ bronze drum and the Dao
Thịnh bronze urn, artifacts dating back 2,000 to 3,000 years BC.
That means that hat has sat on Vietnamese hats since
the Hung Kings founded the nation.
Through the ages, it has changed shape many times.
From the wide prim patam
and quai thao hats of young women in the old north,
to the familiar pointed hat of today,
and finest of all, the poem hat of Hue.
It looks simple, but making one takes great effort.
The maker picks young palm fronds at just the right age,
dries them, then irons them flat with heat.
Bamboo strips are shaped thin and bent into 16 circles,
each larger than the last,
forming the corn-shaped frame.
Then comes the most important step, sewing the hat, called chiam nong.
The maker lays the leaf on the frame and stitches them with tiny,
perfectly even stitches
so the leaves never shift and the thread never shows.
The poem hat of Huế is more intricate still.
A poem or an image is carefully pressed between two thin layers of leaf
so that held up to the sun, the verse simmers into view.
Much of this beauty comes from the meticulous,
patient hands of women in craft villages such as Duong and Phu Cam.
Perhaps that is why the conical hat belongs
so naturally to Vietnamese women.
Under a gently-tilt brim, a young woman's face seems shy and reserved,
yet still graceful and soft.
A silk chin strap in purple or peach pink falls lightly,
adding to the refined look.
The hat goes with the flowing Ao Dai, and sometimes
with the plain Ao Ba Ba, but the hat is not only for beauty.
It is also the embodiment of hard work,
shielding a mother from the midday sun in the field,
and a sister from sudden rain on her way with her load, at rest.
Turned upside down, it becomes a cooling fan
and sometimes even a basket for a quick bunch of greens or a fish.
Strange to think that something so small,
make up a few leaves and bamboo strips, hold so much.
The hat protects its wearer and never shows off.
It endures rain and sun, yet keeps a soft shape.
Could these be the finest qualities
of Vietnamese women through the ages?
Gentle yet patient, hardworking yet warm,
quietly sheltering the whole family.
Today in modern street,
the conical hat is not as common as it once was,
but whenever we catch sight of a white-brimmed toad in the sun,
our hearts still feel an odd tenderness.
After all, that hat is more than just something
to shelter from rain to sun,
Over thousands of years,
it has become part of the shape of the homeland,
a humble yet proud symbol of Vietnamese culture as simple
as the Vietnamese spirit itself through the generations.