Ronald Reagan said, "There's nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse."(RR is thought to have borrowed the aphorism from the old cavalryman Winston Churchill.) Gus Miller said, "There's nothing better for the outside of a man than the inside of a hat."

Actually, Gus Miller didn't say that. What he said was, "This is my Mafioso hat." Then he put on a brown fedora that made him look like an enforcer in The Godfather. I could almost hear the sad violin and smell the cigar smoke and marinara sauce.

Gus has been the Greek Godfather of hats in downtown Cincinnati since 1951. His Batsakes Hat Shop has been a city treasure since 1907. And what Gus says is that a well-dressed man without a hat "is like a beautiful house without a roof."

He watches men go by in the winter wind that would freeze a lit match, hunched over in their wool topcoats, collars turned up against the chill index, and he knows exactly what they need. "They need a hat," he says. "Seventy-five percent of your body heat goes right through the top of your head."

But not every guy needs the same hat. Big body, wide brim. Skinny body, narrow brim.

That's why the "Frank Sinatra" hat the young guys ask for has a 2-inch brim. In case you are so unhip you're still listening to Mott the Hoople, Old Blue Eyes is back in style, and so is his hat. Sinatra wore a narrow brim because anything larger on his pencil-thin frame would have looked like a sombrero on a broomstick.

Teddy Kennedy, on the other hand, probably doesn't wear a hat because it would require a brim like the rings of Saturn and his hat size would be measured with manhole covers.

For me, Gus made an offer I couldn't refuse: A black Borsalino with a medium brim and a brown band. It's sort of a fedora that flops at both ends like a speech by the governor. My hat makes me look like detective Philip Marlowe playing the evil Nazi who chases Indiana Jones. Or maybe just another guy in a hat.

I can't really tell, and I don't care, because it keeps my head warm, keeps the snow and rain out of my collar, and makes me feel cool in a warm way. Hats do that. They are Mr. Mitty's favorite props.

Put on a Stetson and you start to swagger like Clint Eastwood. Try on a Sherlock Holmes hat and you start talking like David Niven with a pipe in his teeth. Put on a top hat and you feel like playing Monopoly with stockholders' money.

Batsakes has all of those, plus a lot more. Gus guesses he has more than 100 styles - and if you don't see what you like, he can make it. He's made hats for Buddy Ebsen, Van Johnson, Red Skelton and Paul Brown.

I didn't see any baseball caps in his store at Sixth and Vine. Just real hats. Most men already have at least a dozen freebie baseball caps, but those don't count. A cheap cap with "Titleist" or "Quaker State" on the front is to a real hat what Kmart rubber flip-flops are to a pair of handstitched, $250 Tony Lama boots. It's the difference between Michael Moore (baseball cap) and Michael Jordan (Borsalino).

"If you wear a hat two or three days and walk out of the house without it, you feel like something's missing," Gus said. "Hats are coming back, very strong."

Anyone who has seen pictures of the good old days knows that downtown used to be jammed with people shopping - and they were all wearing hats. So I hope Gus is right, and hats come back stronger than garlic on Don Corleone's breath.

E-mail pbronson@enquirer.com or call 768-8301.