a sweep

is as lucky as lucky can be.  
Good luck will rub off when I shakes hands with you. 
Up where the smoke is all billered and curled.  
Between pavement and stars is the chimney sweep world.   

There was a history of a flue issue in our building, so an appointment was arranged with Eric, the Maître Ramoneur (Master Chimney Sweep) of our section of the city.  We had seen Eric before; you really can't miss him.  He can be spotted in the neighborhood, signature dusty top hat poised on his head, clad hat to toe in sooted black on sooted black.

He says tourists ask him all of the time for photos.
Damn tourists.

A cup of tea got this ramoneur of 30 years talking, so we learned that chimney services are very organized and controlled here.  They are private enterprises which are assigned to one of seven divided sections of Geneva.  A new company can only be hired in the event of another's retirement, so the sweeps need only concern themselves with their service, rather than advertisement.

The hat?  You bet I asked about the hat.  It seems there is much debate about the real explanation behind why traditional chimney sweepwear involves a chapeau claque.  Eric prefers the storyline that chimney sweeps were permitted in the 18th century to wear top hats (the hats of the Bourgeoisie) as a display of gratitude for fire prevention.  He collects them, as it happens, making a purchase whenever one emerges at the local flea market.

You'll be relieved to know there was absolutely no commentary made about Dick Van Dyke or Santa Claus; you've never seen such a display of restraint.  But here, in the safety of my own blog, I'll close with this.