With this observation I am likely to brand myself a grumpy old fart, but I just don't care: What's wrong with social convention? Not long ago, I received a wedding invitation. Simple and tasteful were my first impressions. They chose the right paper; they anteed up for engraving; nothing rhymed. Well done, I thought. That is until I spotted the offending phrase at the bottom of the invitation: "Dress -- Snappy Casual." Now what in the hell does that mean? Call me cantankerous, but I understand only three manners of dress -- casual, semi-formal and formal. That's it; that's enough. That's all my Mama and the Junior Cotillion prepared me for. Over the past few years numerous such invitations have found their way into my mailbox. Unfortunately, rather than an isolated occurrence, "Snappy Casual" seems to be an especially insidious instance of an unfortunate trend in invitations. Don't even ask me about the birthday party I was invited to attend, which called for "joyous attire."

"If you wear one of my hats to a Mardi Gras parade, you're guaranteed more beads," says creator Lesley Nash

I must admit that for a while I floundered. When confronted by one of these newfangled invitations, I invariably scratched my head, rifled through my wardrobe and ultimately threw my hands up in defeat. That is until a flash of color atop the head of a statuesque brunette caught my eye.

Like most good stories, this one begins in a bar.

God help me, the bartender looked for all the world like Carmen Miranda. Bananas, grapes and oranges sprouted from her head as if loamy dirt instead of dirty locks were underneath her hat. Apples, lemons and limes were in abundance. Pears, pomegranates and persimmons bobbed and weaved as she reached into the cooler for a cold Budweiser. And, believe it or not, the entirety of this edenic garden was attached to her head by a hat that had once done duty as a grocery bag.

Better yet, the bar was filled with her friends, all similarly attired. In the corner, a disco diva was holding court, her noggin crowned with a mess of carrots and cabbages -- a paper, tinsel and cardboard remnant of last year's St. Patrick's Day celebration. Lounging against the far wall was a woman, swanker than swank. A cigarette dangled from her mouth as her gold lamΘ-gloved hand hoisted an oversized martini glass to her lips. But, what really caught my attention was what she had upstairs. As if in mockery of the martini glass in her hand, a three-foot paper version -- crafted of staples, cardboard and found objects -- teetered atop her head, the papier-mΓchΘ olive dangerously close to escape.

After a period of gaped-mouthed staring, I was directed to the creator of these minor masterpieces. As the parade of hats continued (I had walked into a birthday celebration for the aforementioned bartender.), she was kind enough to give me the rundown.

"I started making them when I worked at the Richmond Children's Museum," said Lesley Nash, now a New Orleans resident. "Now I make them for Mardi Gras, St. Patrick's Day, New Year's Eve and birthdays mostly. Each one is one of a kind. When you wear my hats, it's like saying to the world, 'I'm going to have a good time.' It makes people smile and think, 'Ahh, I'm in New Orleans. 'You get a lot of head turning and free beer. If you wear one of my hats to a Mardi Gras parade, you're guaranteed more beads."

And then it hit me -- I'd found the solution to my dress dilemma. It all seems so clear now.

Now when I receive one of those newfangled invitations, I reach for my hat -- the one with the four-foot crawfish leaping off the side. You want "snappy casual?" I'll give you something snappy all right.

Call Lesley Nash at (504) 895-6825. Or, write her at 608 Upperline St. New Orleans, LA., 70015. Give her a week, an idea of what you want and $15 to $25 dollars, and she'll get you a hat.