Bernie Taupin was terrified. It was 1970, and the young lyricist had just touched down in New York City for the first time. He was staying at the Sherry-Netherland Hotel, overlooking Central Park, when a literal gunshot rang out right outside his window. For a kid from the rural English countryside, this wasn't the "Spanish Harlem" rose-tinted dream he’d heard about on the radio. It was loud. It was grit. It was dangerous.
That sudden burst of violence became the catalyst for one of the most enduring songs in the Elton John catalog.
Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters isn't just a track on the 1972 album Honky Château. It’s a raw, piano-driven apology to a city that didn't live up to the hype—and a thank-you note to the people who make it livable anyway. While Elton is world-famous for his feathers, sequins, and literal "mad hatter" fashion sense, this song stripped all that away.
What Does Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters Actually Mean?
People often get confused by the title. Is it about art? Is it about Alice in Wonderland? Sorta, but not really.
When Bernie Taupin wrote those words, he was playing with the idea of New York’s dual identity. The "Mona Lisas" represent the polished, wealthy, and somewhat impenetrable faces you see in the back of limos or high-rise offices—the elite who look beautiful but say nothing. The Mad Hatters, on the other hand, are the eccentrics. They’re the "sons of bankers, sons of lawyers" who have gone a bit off the rails in the concrete jungle, or perhaps just the everyday working-class people trying to keep their heads above water in a city that feels like a madhouse.
Taupin was specifically referencing Ben E. King’s "Spanish Harlem." He realized that the "rose" King sang about didn't actually grow in the cracks of the New York sidewalks.
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The song is a realization of disillusionment.
"And now I know Spanish Harlem are not just pretty words to say... I thought I knew, but now I know that rose trees never grow in New York City."
It’s about the "trash can dream" coming true. It’s about the subways where "a good man goes down." But most importantly, it’s about finding a tribe. Elton sings the line "I thank the Lord for the people I have found" with a sincerity that makes you believe he’s not talking about fans or fame, but the small circle of friends who keep a person sane when the world turns into a circus.
The Connection Between Elton’s Fashion and the Mad Hatter Persona
You can't talk about Mad Hatters and Elton John without talking about the hats. My god, the hats.
By the mid-70s, Elton had basically become the living embodiment of a Lewis Carroll character. He wasn't just a singer; he was a walking art installation. We’re talking about a man who once wore a wig topped with a miniature Spanish warship—complete with working cannons—for his 50th birthday.
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His stylist, Jo Hambro, once described his look as "Mozart meets rock and roll."
- The 1972 Period: Right around the time Honky Château dropped, Elton was transitioning from the "denim and patches" look into full-blown glam.
- The Bob Mackie Era: This is where the true "Mad Hatter" energy peaked. Sequin-covered Dodgers uniforms, Donald Duck costumes with flippers he couldn't sit down in, and headpieces that required their own zip code.
- The Symbolism: For Elton, the costumes were a shield. He has admitted in his autobiography, Me, that he was a shy, chubby kid named Reggie Dwight who didn't feel comfortable in his own skin. Becoming the "Mad Hatter" of pop music allowed him to hide in plain sight.
Why This Song Became a New York Anthem
Something weird happened in 2001.
After the September 11 attacks, New York was a different place. The city was mourning, and the usual "I Love NY" anthems felt a bit too shiny, a bit too fake. During The Concert for New York City at Madison Square Garden, Elton sat down at the piano and played Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters.
It wrecked everyone.
The song’s acknowledgement that the city is hard, dirty, and "mad" made the ending—the part about being thankful for the people you find—hit like a sledgehammer. It’s arguably the most "honest" song ever written about Manhattan. It doesn't ignore the trash or the "hobo" who can drown; it embraces the chaos.
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The Musical "Sequel" You Might Have Missed
If you’re a casual fan, you might not know there’s actually a "Part Two."
Sixteen years after the original, Elton released Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters (Part Two) on the 1988 album Reg Strikes Back. It’s a completely different beast. While the first one is a soulful, acoustic ballad, the sequel is an upbeat, horn-heavy track. It’s much more about the rhythm of the city than the soul of it.
Honestly? It doesn't hold a candle to the original. But it shows how much that specific metaphor stuck with Taupin and John over the decades. They couldn't quite let the "Mad Hatters" go.
How to Experience the "Mad Hatter" Legacy Today
If you want to dive deeper into this specific era of Elton’s career, don't just stick to the Greatest Hits.
- Listen to the "Honky Château" 50th Anniversary Edition: It has some incredible live demos of the song recorded at the Royal Festival Hall in 1972. You can hear the rawness in his voice before he became a global stadium act.
- Watch "Almost Famous": Director Cameron Crowe used the song perfectly to underscore the loneliness of Penny Lane. It captures that "Mad Hatter" feeling of being surrounded by people but totally alone.
- Check out the Christie’s Auction Catalogs: In 2024, a huge collection of Elton’s personal items went up for sale. Looking through the "Mad Hatter" style boots and eyewear gives you a sense of the physical weight he carried to maintain that persona.
To really get the most out of the Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters connection, listen to the track on a pair of good headphones. Pay attention to the mandolin work by Davey Johnstone. It’s the subtle, jangly sound that gives the song its "street corner" vibe. It reminds you that even in a city of millions, the most important thing is the person standing right next to you.
Start with the Honky Château album, then move to the live version from 11-17-70 if you want to see how his style evolved just before the song was born. It’s a masterclass in how a single moment of fear—a gunshot in a hotel—can turn into a lifelong anthem for the misunderstood.