COLUMNIST NEIL STEINBERG WRITES UP HEADWEAR ASSOCIATION DINNER IN THE CHICAGO SUN-TIMES

Hat season
Myself, I would have kept the name ''Traveling Hat Salesmen's Association of America'' -- it's hard to imagine a richer or more evocative name, a name redolent of Pullman sleepers and two-tone shoes, of card games on suitcases and apricot sours at fleabag hotels after a long day on the road.

But it seemed old-fashioned -- a bad thing in some quarters -- so they changed it to ''The Headwear Association.'' I suppose it's plain enough to appeal to the all-important younger generation.

Anyway, they held their annual dinner at the Tavern on the Green Thursday night, a celebration of the remnants of what was once a thriving American hat trade. Things just haven't been the same ever since fathers stopped giving fedoras to their sons as a sign they were all grown up.

In decades past, they used to hire a stripper; this year, they asked me to give a speech -- a fair trade-off, as we are both in the business of baring ourselves.

A lovely spring day in New York -- the latest Blade Runner aspect on the streets are men holding little signs on sticks -- Subway sandwiches, cell phones -- to draw attention to themselves as they hand out fliers. Gritty, street level commerce.