first person

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It was supposed to be a quick weekend getaway in mid-August. Just me, some friends, and three days of live music, denim and questionable dance moves at the Country Thunder music festival in Calgary. A little escape from real life. Boots on, brain off.

Naturally I bought a cowboy hat. Not just any hat – a perfectly broken-in beauty from Lammle’s Western Wear in the city. It made me feel like I truly belonged. I wore it all weekend, sun-soaked and beaming, channelling my inner rancher even though I’m a 28-year-old business owner from a tiny town about two hours north of Toronto – the kind of place where I actually do live with goats, though

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