Why the lavender top hat?

When you meet the grim reaper, what are you gonna do?

That's right, you laugh in his face.

He doesn't have to come for you. He can come for your friend. Or your friend. He can come for the people you like. Anytime, anywhere, no RSVP, totally uninvited guest.

And you always gotta be ready to let him know you ain't gonna shit your pants, even if he marches a whole regiment in there for you and your bros. At a time like that, you stand in front of your buddy you came there for, look him right in the fucking eye sockets...

...and snap your fingers in your LEVANDULA CYLINDER.
 

Because if even a grim reaper, already as white as death, can turn a few shades paler, it's lavender top hats. You snap your fingers in a top hat, the grim reaper snaps his pants. The reason is simple: the top hat is a symbol of absolute fakeness, erect in the firing line of the wounds of fate.

Let me explain how this happened.

When in 1797 the English hatter John Hetherington went for a walk in the world's first top hat (which he had invented shortly before in his hat-making laboratory), he nearly killed half the street. Women fainted at the sight of the monstrosity on his cap, dogs barked so loudly that half of London's window panes cracked, and when the panicked crowd, according to contemporary testimony, took to running en masse in front of the unprecedented comical formation on the hatter's head, he threw a passing delivery boy to the ground in terror and broke his arm. For this, the inventor of the top hat was dragged to court, where they wanted to give him a flak for daring to put on a "tall structure on his skull, the brilliant glare of which threatened to frighten his shy and modest fellow citizens."

What can I say?

Just one thing: Screw those cowards!
Putting on a top hat required two or three things from Hetherington at the time:
For the first: the head. And two: balls.You can't put on a top hat without a head, and you just can't do it without balls, whether you're a woman or a man. And let's not forget one more thing: contemporary accounts of panic on the streets of London only note the normies who took their feet on their shoulders before the Hat Revolution at Hetherington's Mill. Only, given what history has subsequently confirmed, there were undoubtedly a few dudes and dudettes there at the same moment whose pupils dilated with excitement to the size of double-barreled shotgun barrels at the sight of the hatter's unprecedented headdress. 
 And these very quickly realized that Hethering had put nothing less than a symbol on his head. A symbol of not screwing up. 
You don't screw up in front of a panicking crowd, you don't screw up in front of the conventions of the time. You don't screw up in front of anything.
Take a few of the dudes and dudettes who've farted on their heads since then: they're mostly people who've been touched by all sorts of mischief in their lives. And they've managed to look those miseries in the eye, one by one, and snap their shiny top hats in greeting: take Winston Churchill, who kicked Hitler's ass in a top hat; Marlene Dietrich, who turned the idea of female wardrobe upside down with a top hat on her head; take Abraham Lincoln; Slash from Guns N' Roses; Uncle Sam. Hell, take Uncle Scrooge.

Nice top hat squad, huh?

No matter what you do, when you're wearing a top hat, one thing is clear about you: you can't cower. Anyone who's ever tried to crouch with a top hat on their head has lost it because it just fell off their head. That's the way it's supposed to be. The top hat is not for those who crouch. A top hat is for people who stand up straight. They stand still. Stand proud. Look fate straight in the eye - and don't look away.
Waiting for the other guy to look away. Even if it's a dead man with a sharpened scythe.
So what the hell do you want on your head when the Reaper shows you his perfect teeth?
He doesn't have to come for you. All he has to do is step on one of your friends. All he has to do is sharpen his scythe and piss on the people you hold dearest to your heart. So what are you gonna do?
You gonna cower? No, I'm not. You're gonna laugh in the grim reaper's face! 
You're gonna stand by your friends and stand there like a war buddy in the toughest fight of their lives - because this is the toughest fight of their lives. You'll support them, you'll back them up. You don't flinch in look, you don't flinch in character. Your top hat will tower over you like a beacon of a better tomorrow, and whatever monster stands against you, I guarantee you that the sight of it will make her knees shake like a roasting pan of sulcus in a hot tub.
You like that? Yeah, me too.
But there's one more thing.
That top hat on your beautiful little head must be lavender. 
When I tell you why, you're not gonna like it. But I guarantee you're gonna like it a hell of a lot.
That top hat has to be lavender because now the grim reaper's here for your friends and you have to do one thing:
 DRAW ATTENTION TO YOURSELF.

That's why the top hat is lavender.

That's so that the creepy evil that's trotted in to get your beloved brothers and friends will take their attention away from them for a while - and redirect it to you. On you, who's stronger at the moment. You see, death has come for your loved ones. So put on your lavender top hat so she'll stop bullying them and come after you for a while. Until they get their act together. Till they suck. Until they're strong enough to fight. Like you are now. I told you you wouldn't like it at first. But then you're gonna like it a hell of a lot.
Cause you're gonna deliver a fatal blow to your buddies with that levadula top hat on your head. And you're gonna stand for it. You'll give them strength. You give them faith. And you give them the time they need to face the shit that's come for them with newfound strength. Stand strong. Stand proud. And give him the boot. When the grim reaper's teeth slide down your lavender top hat like flush on hot Teflon, he'll realize he's played you for a fool. But when he turns back, he'll realize he's lost, too. Because now there's two of you with lavender top hats facing him. And then three. And then there's ten of you. Fifty. You've dealt the blow of fate. And you yourself have become the symbol that will give birth to another. An army of fighters in beautiful, shining gowns. That's why you're wearing a lavender top hat. 
Wear it proudly. Spit it in the claw.

FUCK CANCER.