If you want to get ahead, get a hat

In some countries, you can read a man’s place in the social hierarchy by the car he drives, the profession he holds or the number of wives in his harem, but in Panama, it’s all in the hat, my friends.

There are dress hats, traditional hats, hats for rain and hats for sun, working hats and hats just for show. Conservatively, a man needs four hats to cover his head for the variety of occasions Panamanian life has to offer.

In Panama, a man’s hat is a billboard the equivalent of a mood ring, if you will. Brim down indicates a good mood. Back of the rim raised ? He’s an intellectual and/or professional. If front and back raised, you’re looking at successful and rich man. Front only raised? Look out — he’s strong, aggressive, dominant. Both sides raised, he is a cowboy. It’s time for me to put away my Ecuadorian Panama hat and get with the program.

What I need is a sombrero pintado. You can tell social status of its wearer by the number of vueltas, woven strips, in his hat. The most expensive have 20, and cost $450. The cheapest have five to seven and run average $10 - $20. A vendor sets a one hundred dollar hat on my head. It doesn’t scratch and is much more detailed that my $10 version, Nice, but what makes this hat so pricey? I set out to discover the secret of the sombrero pintado.

Some believe its origin lies with the Spanish, others, the Colombians. Ocu proclaims itself the hat weaving capital of Panama, but my sources tell me that the pintado originates in the town of La Pintada, 15 kilometers north of Penonome.

As I arrive in town, it is no surprise that there are no signs. This being Panama, the signage expectations are very low. Imagine my surprise when my keen detective eye spots a sign on a house — Reinaldo Quiroz, the name inside the best hats I had seen in Penonome. I enter the shop attached to this third-generation master weaver’s home.

Reinaldo Quiroz, third-generation master weaver, La Pintada.

In the early 1900’s the Panamanian government hired weavers from Ecuador to teach Panamanians to weave the now famous Panama hat. La Pintada was the designated training site, and its schoolchildren were required to attend weaving classes. Reinaldo’s grandfather obliged, but instead of producing the Ecuadorian style hats, he and others secretly began weaving indigenous versions that became known as sombreros pintado — painted hats. Employing a process that takes a minimum of five days for the cheapest versions and up to a month for the best of the best, the pintado’s true artistry lies in its designs.

Reinaldo shows me his complete catalogue of designs, but declares his personal favorites to be his own Sombreros Reinaldo —reddish brown, dark brown, and all-white versions, each with unique shapes, features and patterns. I buy a tipico with 16 vueltas for $180. It’s soft and flexible, white with three sets of thin dark bands around the hat’s upper and two around the brim, and two Sombreros Reinaldo’s, one a reddish brown, the other a dark brown and heavily patterned.

My Sombrero tipico set at a jaunty angle, I bid Renaldo adieu, and stroll into a bar at La Casa Viejo for a drink. A gentleman enters accompanied by a beautiful woman. I count the vueltas on his hat — an impressive 19, He catches me staring, and in all probability assumes I’m ogling his female companion. I read his hat; front only raised. That’s my cue to drink up fast.