Try me: 'Portmore' hat by Stephen Jones, pounds 290

I've been wearing the same hat to weddings since 1988. I'm not a huge fan of weddings. I've always thought that it would be a lot simpler to just post a large cheque to the florist and have done with it. It may be this churlish attitude that leads to my being asked to so few of the things and the hat in question lasting so well. Between nuptials and the odd trip to Henley, it sits on one of the many busts of Napoleon that adorn the bedroom but this time, when I got it down, it fell apart in my hands.

To the rescue came Stephen Jones, with the opportunity to borrow a hat from his Covent Garden showroom. I have a long chat with Jemima in a room filled with various oddities composed of small hairbands being attacked by large satin worms. Others are more in the Gateau Saint Honore vein with clouds of gauze and feathers but, much as I yearn to go the full Cecil Beaton, there is a strict (if seldom observed) mathematical rule that prevents any woman under 5ft 8in wearing any hat larger than a family- sized pizza. Finally I settle on a navy blue gauze flowerpot affair neatly encrusted with tiny white plastic tiles, which we decide matches my personality (which is navy blue and covered with little bits of plastic).

One of the many, many nice things about wearing a hat that sells for an obscene pounds 290 - even if it isn't really your own - is that no one else will turn up in the same one. This is not the case with lesser millinery. There is a beautiful hat currently on sale in Marks and Spencer composed almost entirely of stripped black turkey feathers masquerading very creditably as marabou. Ravishing, dramatic, reasonably priced (pounds 45). And it suits absolutely everybody. I can say this with total confidence because I saw four women in it last Saturday at a frightfully smart wedding and they all looked divine. But if you're planning to wear one this spring you might ring round and check first, unless you all intend to get together and regale the congregation with a chorus of "Where Did You Get That Hat?" The wisest course for those in search of exclusivity would be a plain straw hat and a tenner well spent in John Lewis's trimmings department. Alternatively, you could abase yourself in the lower reaches of features journalism and simply borrow a couture hat for the afternoon.

Although I didn't have a price ticket on the outside there is something about every model hat that screams Money To Burn. "Oooh! LOVE the hat!" "AMAZING hat!" "VERY nice" and other low-key but deeply gratifying compliments trickled my way. But this was nothing to the praise received after my lovely accessory had been hastily rushed back to the shop (they needed it for a show for the Kensington and Chelsea Women's Association, and it seemed ungrateful to complain). My hair was obviously a disappointment. "Oh dear. What happened to your BEAUTIFUL hat?" etc. Suddenly I became The Woman Who Had Been Wearing the Great Hat. Suddenly I was less glamorous. Less interesting. Cinderella after midnight. I begin to wonder if (stretched over a frugal 10 years of use) pounds 290 is so very much to pay for a hat after all ...

Louise Levene

Stephen Jones, 36 Great Queen Street, London WC2 (0171 242 1770)