Black or brown, pink or red, made with straw or leather, hats in this country mean more than just sun protection. Hat-wearing is elevated to a national art form. That’s what I told myself at the end of my day at the races. I think I had never seen as many hats before.

When in Rome do as the Romans do…But I have to be honest, no matter how hard I try, hats look great on others but they look stupid on me. And I look stupid in them too. We have definitely nothing in common.

For the sake of my integration into the Aussie culture, I even tried a decorated hair band with peacock feathers. I had dreams about 1920s’ glamour. The result? More like a dead pheasant stapled to a tiara. No, I’ve tried to no avail, it just didn’t work on me.

I think it’s right there that I started to hate those old fashioned racing dress standards – a road block on my way to freedom, and my hair in the wind! So I decided to go for it…Hair in the wind. Literally. Hair in the rain too…Properly speaking, unhappy greasy messy hair in the wind and the rain…

Next time, I promise, I’ll try Aussie cowboys’ hats.