BACK TO ARCHIVE .......................................................2-15-03
 

I Was Destined for the Red Hat Society!

My October, 2002 column told the story of an adventuresome dozen of friends gathering to start our own chapter of the Red Hat Society. Our quarterly luncheons continue to be a hilarious blend of the red and purple end of the color spectrum, both in our fashion ensembles and in our flushed cheeks as we laugh and play together.

Last month, our Queen Mum, Sharon Warren was going through some old photos and came across a couple of pictures of her original red hat. She even had her young son, Troy, modeling it. Our "Society Ladies" all had a great giggle as we watched those precious photos download on our computer screens. The photos jogged my memories of a time when MY original red hat came into being. To follow is the e-mail letter I wrote to my Society Sisters: Hello, dearest "Shady Ladies of Red, Purple, Pink and Lavender," I really enjoyed receiving Sharon's photos of her original red hat, wasn't that a keeper? Especially the one of her son, Troy modeling it, too! Our Queen Mum's accompanying story reminded me of my own original red hat experience. I can now see that we were all destined to join this society one day!

It was in the late 1960s, when the "Hippie Era" was in full swing. I was a skinny little eighth grader, attending a junior high school where many of the teachers were Catholic nuns. Back then, they still wore the intimidating full black regalia with the white "paper plates" around their heads. I lived in North Overshoe, a little town called St. Paul, Alberta, northern Canada with an aging population of about 4,000 retired farmers. The word "fashion" didn't exist in our two or three shopkeepers' vocabularies. They sold overalls, jeans, plaid shirts and flowery house dresses. My giggling girlfriends and I would peruse the fashion magazines we saw on the newsstands and PINE for some updated fashions. It seemed to take five years for anything remotely contemporary to reach our little town in the middle of the prairies.

One day, I saw a fabulous magazine model wearing a floppy brim hat, with a small daisy painted on her cheek. Her long legs ended at a very SHORT miniskirt that I just KNEW the Catholic church had already declared a sin. But my rebellious teenage hormones were in overdrive, and I really, really wanted to duplicate that model's look.
I could achieve the miniskirt look by simply rolling up my sensible knee-length skirt. I could draw the daisy on my cheek with my watercolor kit. But where, oh where could I EVER find a RED floppy brim hat???? While scrounging around through our closets, I came across my Dad's Sunday Church Hatbox. The shape of his hat was all wrong, of course, but to my great delight, the plastic rain cover that accompanied it was the PERFECT shape! The Spray Paint Queen went to work, "borrowing" some red spray paint from my Dad's workshop and turning that transparent possibility into my original red hat.

I showed up at school the next day in this daring new outfit. My peers gave me rave reviews and lined up to ask me WHERE I found that darling hat! Sister Catherine, however, did NOT give me rave reviews. Her chubby face, pinched in the white oval of her habit, turned as crimson as my new chapeau. "And just WHAT do you think you are doing, coming to school dressed like that? What is that THING on your head?!?" she sputtered in anger and disgust.

"Why, it's my new red hat," I coyly replied.

"Well, Miss Lamoureux, you AND your red hat are coming to the principal's office
with me."

The principal did not give me rave reviews either. He chastised me for my skirt length (or lack of it, that is), for my dainty daisy, and for my silly red hat. I was expelled from school for a few days until I could get a note from my parents excusing my behavior. It was NOT easy to walk home to face Mom and Dad with that principal's note in my hand. The daisy got scrubbed off my face, the skirt got unrolled, and eventually, the red paint flaked off my wonderful red hat.

But, you know what? They couldn't scrub off my rebellious nature--it's still with me today. I feel that same heady sense of power and freedom every time I walk into a restaurant with my Pink Hat, and I can't wait until I have my "Reduation" at 50, so I can again earn the privilege of wearing that PERFECT RED HAT! Sister Catherine will roll over in her grave!

Love,