



I thought for sure I'd return from the Kentucky Derby with plenty of hat photos, but here's the deal:
1. Oaks Day (Friday) was beautiful and a big ol' hat was not only part of the tradition but kinda necessary. I wore mine and my shoulders still burned to a crisp. But on Oaks Day everyone is supposed to wear pink and thus everyone kinda looked the same, like
this.
2. Derby Day was very rainy, so many people didn't even wear hats, but those who did opted for ones they didn't care would get wet and/or muddy. A lot of those looked like
this.
3. I was a very naughty little blogger. Instead of positioning my iPhone camera firmly at the ready, I consumed far too many mint juleps for style watching. After about julep No. 3 I was in full-on vacation mode. Picture me slumped over in the grandstands with bleacher marks on the butt of my Narciso Rodriguez and a vacant look in my eyes.
Needless to say I wasn't really jazzed by any hats I saw, but here's my theory: I wasn't rubbing elbows with the wealthy folks, so I didn't get a glimpse of the really majestic headgear.
While I was not at all diligent about documenting derby fashion, I can impart some wisdom about derby culture. Churchill Downs is really, really beautiful, but within its massive, white-washed belly lies a very resolute hierarchy.
The Infield:The ragamuffins, or those who weren't successful in scalping tickets or anyone who didn't plan very well ends up in the infield. By no means am I bashing the grassy expanse, after all that's where me and my compatriots constructed our lean-to as the rain soaked the track into an odds-bending mud pit. But anyone thinking about spending the afternoon there should know what they're getting into. By day's end the soggy grounds were littered with broken commemorative glassware and half-eaten turkey legs. Girls mud wrestle, boys relieve themselves on the sidewalk and EVERYONE is drunk.
The Grandstands:The grandstands (where we sat on Oaks Day) are for those who don't want to pee in port-o-lets and don't mind spending $100 to sit on bleachers. $10 Early Times juleps are brought to you instead of having to stand in line for them and I didn't see any animal carcasses strewn about.
Box Seats:From what I hear these are mostly passed down within families and corporations. Sometimes the owners don't want to go and so they sell the tickets on Craig's List or somewhere. This can get very expensive, especially if you buy your box tickets from a hustler with counterfeit tickets. Yes, this happened to us. My advice? Don't buy your derby tickets off Craig's List. But if you insist upon a Craig's List purchase, be leery of a man named George who'd like to meet at Hooters.
The Covered Seats in the middle with the green tents and the white folding chairs:I don't really know what this area is called, but to me looks like where the millionaires and celebrities must sit. I can picture Paris Hilton sitting at her table with the white tablecloth, clutching her little pooch and not caring about the horses. If anyone's ever made it up there, please tell me about it. While I guess these seats are technically in the infield, the people up there can actually see the horses when they run by and are probably eating food that requires silverware.
Getting home:Either drive yourself or arrange for a ride, any ride. Whether that be friend, unofficial taxi, or frigging donkey, whatever you do don't mess with the taxi line outside the main entrance. Six of us stood in that horrid line for two hours, during which we heard line-jumping excuses like, "My kids are at the front! I have to get to them!" and "My sister in law broke my foot, that b*&%$!."
One lady wearing a T-shirt with palm trees on it even threatened to fight me if I didn't let her by.
If you like my hat, talk to Emily Clark at emilliner.com