Yes, I have always been attracted by the sight of a woman wearing a hat. Maybe it’s because you just don’t see it often these days. But there definitely is an allure that is created when the face is framed or in some way partially obscured by a hat. Very seductive.
But there is more to hats and hat wearing than sex appeal… hats can be fun, practical or maybe make a simple statement… but in someway they become emblematic of something else.
And my story is of three hats… each reflecting on the wearer…
My parents had traveled to Mexico for a vacation and when they returned they brought back souvenirs of their trip. I was given one of those bullfighter’s hats… Continflas wore one in Around the World in 80 Days when he found himself in a corrida in Spain. It is a small black affair decorated with sequins and a fake black pigtail attached in the back (it was the only way I could tell which was the front and which was the back of the hat).
Back then I shared a bedroom with Mommie Soph and somehow the hat made its way into our closet.
There came the time that the Jewish High Holidays rolled around. Our family was Reform; but Mommie Soph kept to her Othodoxy when it came time for Rosh Hashona & Yom Kippur. For the Holidays she would go to one of her sisters (I think this is right) so they could walk to the Orthodox Temple.
So everyone is getting dressed to go to Temple. Our family to drive to Mishkan Israel & Mommie Soph to go to her Shul. We are all preparing to leave, and here comes Mommie Soph walking down the stairs dressed in her finery… wearing my matador’s hat.
Yes that was some sight… we all laughed. Although I don’t think Mommie Soph realized the hysterical appearance it created (maybe she was miffed at the laughter?)… Mommie Soph knew one thing… it was Rosh Hashona, she was going to Services and wearing a hat was not an option, it was a requirement (as it is in any Orthodox Temple to this day)… so what was so funny? She knew what was right… and going to Services meant you wore a hat… she always wore hat when she went to Services. And maybe it was the pure innocence of it all that made the “outfit work”. Who could deny it?
********************************************
And then there is a photograph that Lynn brought to my attention of Tiny wearing a hat & standing on a chair. It is Lynn’s favorite picture of Tiny. And she calls the picture “Tiny Fetticah”. My gosh, I hadn’t heard that name in years. Lynn reminded me that Mom would call her that… yes, yes I remember now… I had thought it was some made-up name. But now I learn the story behind the name… it was a name that Tiny created for herself as a young child because she could not say Fleischner.
I look at the picture again of Tiny Fetticah… maybe four of five at the time and the poofy hat she is wearing. Yes, a wonderful hat. But not the hat I remember most. No, for me it would have to be her Greek Fisherman’s hat. I loved seeing her in it… and it seems to me that she wore one for some time.
I loved the independence of the look. Totally unexpected. This was well before the popularity of caps worn today. No, Tiny left the “fancy” hats (that she did have) in their boxes, and she donned the cap of a simple fisherman. It became a signature and a perfect frame for her wonderful smile.
***************************************
We loved the sun, no one more than Mom. Getting a tan in our family was part of being in our family. We all were good at it, too. And say what you will, we all looked good in our tans.
But no one would get as dark as Mom. This pursuit of darkness stopped short of attempts to keep the colour for the winter. Our cousin Roz Biscoe would champion the cause of the 12 month tan. Mom would get as dark as Roz in the summer, and that would be it.
Roz would in fact die of cancer, and I believe it was related to all the sun she took in. So when Mom developed some skin cancers she knew that her sun tanning days were at an end.
No, Mom could not stay in doors, particularly when she went to Captiva. How could she collect her precious shells without going to the beach. But now she would go covered.
The sight struck me… I was so accustomed to seeing her in a swim suit “soaking in the rays”… and now I see her… she is 25 yards up the shore line, wearing loose fitting slacks, a light blouse covering her arms, she is bent over, tush to the oncoming waves that lap up to the sand and deposit their treasure trove of shells. She wears a straw hat with a big brim to keep the sun from her face…
She works meticulously and quickly in ferreting out the perfect shells… each small wave bringing something new, each small wave taking something away. And like fisherman who have the knack of knowing where the fish are, Mom has the knack of knowing where the shells are… And this is Captiva, afterall… it is to shell collecting what the Gallatin River is to trout fishing.
Soon the other “regulars” meander over to where Mom is… you know, shell picker to shell picker. No, she is not territorial in that way… lotta shells out there. I can see is chatting with another colleague who is also bent over in the shell picking position.
Mom takes a break… she stands up and sees me… gives me a wave, and even in the shade of her straw hat I can see her smile…
***************************************
You just got to love women in hats…