Sing, Sing a Song

"I have met charming people, lots who would be charming if they hadn't got a complex about the British and everyone has pleasant and complex manners and I like most of the American voices. On the other hand, I don't believe they have any God and their hats are frightful. On balance, I prefer the Arabs."

Freya Stark, French adventurer and explorer (1893-1993)

You didn't think I was going to comment on Michelle's wardrobe pressures and the wee-Michelle's brand commitment to J. Crew and not devote a post to The Hat.

Maybe you weren't born in 1956. Back when no woman of any color went to church of any kind without a hat. I think I might have even been born wearing a hat.

The early pictures of me show hats of many sorts and colors. Of course, those photos are primarily in black and white; so, it's been a challenge to keep the memory based on my parents remarks about the meaning and occasion of those toppers.

Jackie Kennedy might have been viewed as America's icon of style in 1960. But, as far as I was concerned, that label belonged to my own mother. She was 5 feet, 10 inches tall. She wore high-heeled pumps, three or four inches tall, and she had great legs. Those shoes made her the same height as my dad. Then, she sometimes plunked a hat on her head that pushed her two to three inches above him. And, she stood up straight.

My message to all Tall Girls everywhere, whether you live in the White House or the outhouse, is to stand up straight. Nothing says "I wish I wasn't so tall" as hunched shoulders, that lean to the left, or a droopy head. Who cares if your tall husband is vertically challenged by your shoes, your hair, or your hat. Pick it up, stay on straight, and push your chin out a bit if you must. You cannot hide your height under a paper bag.

You're not fooling anybody.

Hello.

They're not going to think he is taller or you are shorter when you slouch around like that.

But, back to my mother. Since tall women in 2009 still experience challenges in the clothes-shopping department, it's a wonder that the home-sewing industry is really dead.

D-E-A-D, dead.

In 1960, my mother made her own Sunday clothes. She made my clothes, and she later made clothes for my baby sister after she arrived. Sure, we visited department stores and knew that clothes could come from such a place, but I'm not certain that we owned any store-bought Sunday clothes until we were young teenagers. And, we were best-dressed. Always.

My mother made dresses. But, for herself, she also made suits. That might seem remarkable standing on its own; and, it was. But, what was remarkable by today's standards -- and, it was considered remarkable then as well -- is that she made matching hats for those suits. I'm sure I wasn't the only girl in America in the sixties who had a mother so talented. But, she was the only one I knew. I remember going to the yard goods store just to look at hat forms.

When we shopped at Jordan Marsh, the premium department store of its day where we lived in Orlando, Florida, I would often separate from my parents. I spent some quality time in the toy department, to be sure; they had penny candy, too. So, it was a big deal. But, sometimes I would disappear from the toy department to the place of my adult dreams. I wasn't supposed to be there. And, I wasn't supposed to sample the merchandise. But, I couldn't help myself. It was just too wonderful.

This Magic Place was also known as "Millinery."

I haven't written "millinery" in so long, I had to look it up.

Ladies' Hats.

The Hat Department.

I was eager to participate in this Festival of Womanhood. This hat-wearing thing that was going to be mine when I grew up.

But, a funny thing happened on the way to Tip Toppers Club.

These beautiful, creative head warmers in every fabric known to man and every color in God's rainbow fell out of fashion. The Women's Movement didn't do much to help the hat industry. And, once it was clear that wearing trousers wasn't a felony, they didn't always seem necessary.
Hair got to be a much bigger deal. I blame girls like Farrah Fawcett and Dorothy Hamill for it. But, it was certainly true that a hat didn't do much for those hairstyles, especially after you removed it.

I held on to the dream for a while. I lived in southern California, but I had a camel wool trenchcoat and a matching camel wool hat that Ingrid Bergman might have envied. I had a dark red pantsuit that worked really well on Rose Bowl game day. I had a matching plush felt fedora with a big, white weather sticking out the side. I had a dark green hat and other such things that have long since been forgotten. If there wasn't a photo ever taken of it, it's almost like it might not have existed.

When it came time to select my headgear for our wedding in 1981, I went straight to the hats. Selections were limited, but I wasn't going to wear a veil at what might prove to be my last chance in life to wear a hat. I chose the best one available and had that 1940's birdcage veiling sewn on the front to chin length.

In the past couple of decades, hats have been risky business. I don't think the First Lady of the United States has ventured near a hat since Hillary Clinton wore that saucer shape at Bill's first Inauguration. A bit more wind, and she would have launched over Washington, D.C. like Mary Poppins. Some people would have enjoyed that. But, I would have mourned the role the hat played in her humiliation. Her humiliation at just wearing the thing in the first place was revisited in the press after Tuesday's events. All because of one woman.

Aretha may not have rendered "My Country 'Tis of Thee" in her best form, but she was dressed (and covered up, thank you so much) to the nines. I could hardly stay focused on the music for gaping at The Hat. She clearly doesn't sing well in the cold. Who would??!! And, any detractors about her choice of The Hat need to take a pill. She can wear any dang hat she wants. I still love "Freeway of Love," and I consider The Hat to just be the Hat version of the Pink Cadillac.

Her image conjured hats, church, Sundays, and the need to mark really special occasions with a once-in-a-lifetime hat better than anything or anyone could do on January 20, 2009.

Thanks to the magic of technology, Mr. Song and his company on Woodward Avenue in Detroit, Michigan couldn't watch the Inauguration on Tuesday for answering the phone. I'm not going to order Aretha's hat. I just can't carry it like she did. The other side of technology magic permitted me to try it on. And, frankly, I can see that it's just not "me."

I also see by the internet that I have many, many other options. Selecting a hat over the web wouldn't have the same visceral thrill as buying one after trying it on in that now-extinct Ladies' Hat Department at Jordan Marsh.

But, I'm thinking I should bone-up on the matter. Someone could call me at any minute, to appear at something special. Whatever I could do well, could probably be accomplished even better with a hat. A Great Hat. Not a Cat-in-the-Hat stupid kind of hat.

A Hat like That.

http://www.mrsongmillinery.com/