What’s in a word?

Not just any word. I’m thinking of those descriptive words that are used to lure us in to parting with our money where consumer goods – in the main, food or drink, are concerned.

You know the ones – they scream out of windows and sandwich boards – like beacons of assurance that their product is better than the ones sold next door.

Homemade
Artisanal
Gourmet
Craft

The problem with such words is that they are subjective and rarely quantifiable. One cook’s homemade is another’s production line filling, stuffed in to a pre-made casing on site where no one lives. Usually it means that someone has had to use a peeler, a knife, even an oven – above a microwave. Though if it’s not someone’s home – how can it be homemade? Clearly the idea of putting ‘Made in a non-domestic kitchen – possibly last week and stuck in the freezer before being thoroughly defrosted and sold on today’ doesn’t quite have the same, well, homely feel to it. But can you be sure that hasn’t happened?

The next three words appear to be cropping up everywhere at the moment. I had a gourmet pie today. This post is not an attempt to mock, ridicule or criticise the pie. I enjoyed the pie; a lot. If you live in Leeds and like pies – get along to Granvilles Food Company and try one for yourself. If you are of a certain age, try saying Granvilles without instantly thinking of using a stutter. For the record I had the Beef, Red Wine and Onion pie. I will definitely have it again.

Anyways, I digress – as per. The point is that the pie was billed as a gourmet pie. It was a good pie, an enjoyable pie – but how did it leap from being a pie, to a gourmet pie. It was far better than anything I’ve had from a chip shop or football stadium. Better than most supermarket branded pies – but was it better than the one I get from my butcher, who simply labels up his pies as; well, pies. Does gourmet in this instance refer solely to the quality of the ingredients rather than a level by which the pie should be measured?

I should have asked. But being British, I opted to take my pie and go rather than question. We should question our food more.

Artisanal and craft are words that, quite frankly, bore me now. They both seem to refer to quantity size as much as production method. In that they make a smaller batch by hand, therefore it must be better than the mass produced offerings. Must it, really? I don’t know – I’ve had some artisanal or micro manufactured products that lacked any discerning characteristics – like flavour. Whereas, and whisper this in hushed tones – sometimes companies that make in bulk, know what they are doing – and leave you with a decent product in your hand.

If you’re ever bored – type craft beer in to search on twitter. The justifications you’ll read are very much like a dog chasing its own tail, though at least in that instance, the dog eventually gives up and chases something else.

Using words seems to enhance, not necessarily the quality of the product, more the opinion that the seller has of their own ideals – which they would like to pass on to you. It can, in some cases bump up the price – in others, limit where you can buy it from. But does a word actually make something taste better?

No.

But it doesn’t seem to stop people trying to convince you otherwise.

As I said, this post isn’t actually directed at G-G-G-G-G-G-Granvilles. They just happened to ignite something that has been festering for some time now.

I’ve written in the past about the need to smarten myself up.

To confront my apathy towards shopping and to add a few, choice pieces a month to my – what can only be described as a, relaxed wardrobe.

I often look back to a bygone era, to a time when the idea of leaving the house without a pair of slacks, a suit, even a tie was alien to men of a civilised world.

As someone who plays bowls, it’s still commonplace for me to see a man, in a tie, who is not coming from a day’s work – who believes it to be normal to put that extra bit of effort in to the way they look. It might not shout cool – but it does suggest effort.

I hate ties. I hate my top button done up.

So what can I do to add a little bit of class; to elevate myself from the round necked tee, jeans and Adidas track top look I often present to the world?

I have a desire to buy a hat; a good hat. Not a flat, baseball, woollen or Chilean ear warming number. No, the sort of hat I want comes made by the fraction. It is designed to fit the head, not by a plastic strip but by the cut of the material. It is the sort of hat that Frank Sinatra might wear on an album cover, in a black and white photo – in the press shot for a film.

I’ve felt this way since I watched Al Murray’s German Adventure. You tend to only see his pub landlord character, bald, often slapping his forehead to emphasise a point. It was therefore a departure of understanding to see him wearing a quality hat – a hat that seemed to mask the character and present the human; the real person.

I don’t necessarily want to mask anything of me, or should that be, unmask my hat wearing personality. I do want to simply add something classic, some kind of starting point to a new, respectable me. Can a hat really make a man?

I’d like to find out. I’d like to spend the dark, gloomy winter months walking to work with a perfectly fitting hat, keeping my head warm – keeping my appearance, my pecker up. It might not change a single thing about me, nor lead to any further decisions affecting my attire, but for a moment, in the time it takes to tip the brim – even I could feel cool enough to release an album like “Songs for swingin’ lovers”.

The hat of choice is the Lock & Co Hatters “Pork Pie”

I do appreciate the Pork Pie might be a tad cliché these days. As though it has not only jumped the proverbial shark, it has seen off the likes of Evil Knievel with the number of sharks it has cleared in one jump. But then I’m basing this want on the appearance of a man on an album cover released some 55 years ago. I’m not for one minute claiming this to be an original idea.

It is a hat after all.