Bunny reporter here:

empire State Building? check.

plastic eggs on "hats"? check

King Tut? check

Ah, yes, the annual Easter Parade on Fifth Avenue. What would life be without Halloween in the Spring? As a person, I appreciate the fun, the participation, the joyful expression of hot- glued fantasy that people find the need to wear. As a milliner, I'm still in shock. Try as we might, the Milliners Guild is forging ahead, and beating a path through the throngs of stuffed bunnies, and overgrown shrubs. On top of heads. Out to restore class and dressing to the idea of Easter on the Avenue, we represent a tiny niche of people interested in hats on a real deal basis. Not for play, only, but for every day , in every way, for every body. The joy of a great hat cannot be topped by a bag of Easter grass glued to a paper plate. Right?

Remember the movie, with Judy and Fred? Elegance reigned on Fifth Avenue in the 19th Century, and for those of you who know your history, it continued until the Great War. The lapse in celebretory activities on Easter Sunday didn't foment the tradition of wearing your Sunday best to show off, though. Instead, it returned as the Lost Bunny Nightmare, and spawned dozens of happy folk come to view the crazy people in the wierd, not the wonderful, as hats. If only tim Burton would direct it, it might come out okay. Instead, our little band of milliners march steadfastly from St. Patrick's Cathedral to the Park, stopped at every turn by oohs and ahs as photographers snap us and people cast a jealous eye upon our delightfully chic chapeaux.

Doesn't it just make you want to put on a hat?