The Red Hatters. You know them? I have a friend, who I love and adore, who is a member of The Red Hat Society. The group originated right here in Orange County and I spot their flashes of bedazzled, purple and red everywhere.
The idea behind the group comes from this poem. But, to save you the trouble of clicking (and give myself a chance to share some snarky imagery), I will paraphrase: Why wait until you have medicare on speed-dial and you say things like "Coldwater Creek has some cute blazers this fall" to be who you want to be? Don’t wait to wear that red hat ladies. Be your own person. Spit. Drink hard liquor.
These were the nobel and veracious propelling ideas for the group. But now, it seems they have distanced themselves from the poem and its message, not providing even a link to it on their website.
Here is a recent conversation I had with my friend:
Friend: "It’s my birthday so I get to wear a purple hat instead of a red one."
Me: "Do you have to wear particular clothes to these get-togethers?"
Friend: "Oh, yes, you wear black slacks and red and purple and then a red hat, except on your birthday, then you wear a purple hat."
Me: "But doesn’t that sort of take away from the whole meaning of the group? You know, to be so regimented?"
Friend: Silence.
Me: "Why don’t you just show up in a mohawk? That will really get those gals in a bunched-up fit."
Friend: eye-roll/arm fold across body.
My sixties are going to be brutal.
When I am old, I will wear whatever I damn well want. Probably not that red/purple combo.
The last thing I want to do when I’m old is wear a uniform. Heck, it’ll probably get to the point where people will consider themselves lucky if I remember to wear undergarmets!
Well I will be there right beside you in my Doc. Martins and some totally inappropriate t-shirt as well. We will go to concerts and drink hard liquor. Our grand children will talk about us. But we will just smile.
Is it wrong to spit and drink hard liquor? In my “neck” of the woods, those are party games. Bahahahaha!
The purple and red army scare me. I flat out refuse to get old. No way! No how! Ain’t gonna happen! {hmpf}
Noooooooooooo way am I going to wear a red hat! I’m all for having fun, but this isn’t me.
I have to say it – I can’t stand the red hat old lady club.
I’ll hang with you when your old. No hats though. Except when it’s cold. It’s tough out there for a bald guy.
I still subscribe to my hometown weekly newspaper, and there’s a monthly update about the latest meeting of the Red Hat Honeybees. It usually goes like this: “The Red Hat Honeybees met at the Covered Wagon for a luncheon of chicken salad on a croissant, strawberry / spinach salad with poppy seed dressing, rolls and butter, coffee and tea. Ruth read a devotion and Mid read a humorous reading. Lee Anne provided favors for all members and Joanie made a keepsake frame to commemorate the occasion. There were twelve members in attendance.” Yep, this is the kind of stuff that makes the newspaper in a sleepy, rural area. NO THANKS.
In a town nearby, there’s an entire shop devoted to the red and purple paraphernalia.
Not for me. No way. No hats.
This strikes me as completely right. Not that I want to offend the Red Hatters. But, seriously, wouldn’t it be more fun if you could wear whatever you wanted PLUS the crazy sparkly red hat? Personally, I would get some Wizard of Oz ruby slippers to complement them. But that’s just because I like my accessories all matchy matchy. 😉
Will you invite me to your sixtieth birthday? It sounds like it could be fun!