It's not all that without a Fabulous hat

At the turn of the twentieth century, my great grandmother ( the original Tinny) and her sister started a tradition during a visit home.  Those were not the days for a fashion budget, so these sisters got creative and traded hats. What was old to Mama Tinny was new to her sister, so they looked forward to this exchange on each trip.

My Cousin Tinny, of whom I often write, told me of this story on a long ago visit and we decided to make it our own. With a slight variation. To Tinny's favor. Whenever we visit, I bring a hat for my dear cousin. Since she knows my hats are near and dear to my heart and identity,   part of my very being , she wouldn't consider taking one of them. No, only a  stylish new hat that I have brought  especially for her will do. The bigger the better. Hats should be not only a fashion statement but also a protection from the elements and a stylish topper for any occasion.  Whether paired with my signature white linens on the Carolina beach or keeping the sun off Tinny as she tends her heirloom garden,  a good straw hat says "I am a Southern women. A force to be reckoned with".


Take the Southern belle of all times, Scarlett. When first we see this flirty girl, she is wearing just about the coolest bonnet one could ever wish for. That big, gorgeous straw hat with the yards of ties under the neck was so stunning  it took away almost all attention from those twins who had hair the color of Tang. Against Melanie's QuakerState bonnet, you could tell it was going to be a tragic end for poor sweet Mel, fashion speaking and otherwise.  Scarlett's bodacious brim was so fabulous for the barbeque at Twelve Oaks, that our dear Scarlett  looked fabulous, fiddle dee dee, when everyone at the Wilkes' ancestral home was betting Ashley was off to join the ballet while the other rowdy guys where off to the army.   Give me that rascally Rhett any day. Just saying.
Not Southern, but still very chic, Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, will forever be remembered in that fabulous felt fedora as she told Humphrey Bogart (looking like a basset hound) "we'll always have Paris."  You know in that scene at the airport, you see all the people working far off by the plane ? Well, they really weren't  far away. They were midgets. Truth is stranger than fiction. Off point, but needed to be said.

Jackie Kennedy did great things for the millinery industry with those cool little pill box numbers. Only problem created for the next 40 years was that women thought the way to wear a hat was like poor old Jackie, perched on the back of her head. Wrong. Hats should be placed on your head, the brim pulled down to your eyebrows and then up a little. Gives that illusion of mystery. yesterday I was running late  to the TicTacNailShak, so I brushed my hair back and grabbed my Kaminsky widebrim to compliment my linen a-line, flat sandals and off I went. A customer was having trouble finding the perfect shade of red, so asked my opinion. After setting her up with I'm Really Not A Waitress Red, my consult told me "Thank you. I can see you are a person of taste". To be recognized as a person of taste, especially at the TikTak is more than I ever hoped for when I left the house.  Amazing, Friday night mascara, but a great hat instantly puts me in the realm of Person Of Taste.

I have hats that have sentimental value, such as my romantic hat from Monte Cristo's in  Santa Fe. It has my name embossed in the band and just looking at it makes me think of one of my favorite places. Then there is the crazy HUGE straw cowboy hat that looks like I could wear it to shop at RoundTop Trade Days or to my day job picking watermelons. My nephew , Texas Ranger, borrowed it for a day at the beach back in June and I haven't seen it since. Then there is the straw hat bought on the French Rivera to keep me from sunstroke on the nude beaches . Fear not, Fabulous Ma'am did not go Native in Nice, I wore a one piece bathing suit, zinc oxide and a straw  with a navy ribbon that made me look like Madeline. Since we are talking about nude beaches, I have one thing to say. Don't do it. It's not pretty. The people you see are not what you might have imagined. Think 90 year old man in less than a speedo. 100 year old leather-like lady who has obviously nursed 4 generations.  You have a strong desire to poke your own eyes out with your drink umbrella. I digress.

Perhaps no sporting event is more to my liking than the Kentucky Derby. Fast action, cocktails starting in the morning, and a sea of decadent hats. What could be more perfect? On this one day, nothing is outrageous for one's chapeau. In fact, the horses are really secondary(for me) to the splendid millinery parade( sorry Seabiscuit).

So friends, on these hot days of August, remember the sun is not your friend. A big hat and Neutrogena SPF 100 will keep your skin from looking like Corinthian leather. Can you imagine Scarlett with a tan? Not in a million years.  A Southern girl knows the importance of a good hat. And keeping the plantation in the family.

I remain,
The Fabulous Ma'am



Cousin Tinny
Gore Plantation,Brunswick County
North Carolina

Memories in Capri Pants

These past few weeks have been bittersweet. The Fabulous Ma'am has been able to visit with my extended family on a regular basis, even though we are spread across the country. We have been going though the picture boxes, finding pictures of us as children, and posting them on Facebook. Interesting to see how the family resemblance goes on throughout the generations. Seeing Teeny Mama in Capri pants, cuddled up next to a skinny tall man that can only be the pupa of what would become Big Daddy. The parental units and the aunts and uncles all look like teenagers. They are always hugged close together, I notice in the photos.

Big Daddy came from a family of 5. He is the middle son, followed by two girls.  Funny to see them all sitting on an antique looking car with their daddy. Pictures of Daddy and Oldest Uncle in their sailor uniforms with Big Mama, as they were about to leave for the Navy. In Big Daddy's graduating class of 14,  nearly all the boys joined the service just as the Korean War was beginning. We learned the same was true for the next class as well. All were friends and many joined up together. We see the pictures and think they look like kids. They were kids. The military was a ticket to an education and a life off the farm.

Social networking usually gets on my nerves. What I see is kids with iphones, texting nonstop and never looking up while around their families. As children, our social networking was positioning yourself as close to the grownups as possible and then keeping your mouth shut so you could listen to their conversations.  So much can be learned while pretending to be cuddled up asleep. That's when they talked about the realllllly interesting stuff.  While I think social networking today is creating a generation who spend all their time not socializing with the people around them but texting to someone who must be super important, there are cases where it is a blessing.

Through social networking, a group was created called the Clamdigger Union. A tongue in cheek group comprised of the "old families" of the little NC town where my family has lived since the American Revolution. The Union came into our lives a few years ago by fluke.  A picture of a highschool basketball team from 1949 was posted and the question was" can you identify these boys".
I received a message from one of my younger cousins that a picture of Big Daddy's team had been published and she identified him. Our interest was peaked. I looked at the page and started reading the question of the day page. That day's question was "what was your best memory of the movie theater". Mine was going with Big Mama to see Sleeping Beauty and her explaining to me why we couldn't sit in the balcony because it was for Colored People.  My response caught the eye of one of the older cousins who had been my baby sitter. She made contact. We began to Social Network, locating all her brothers and sisters. Then she received a message from someone who had gone to school with my father all those years ago. Much to our amazement, he revealed that his birthmother was her grandmother's sister. He had been adopted but it was not spoken of in those days.

So from then on , we all began reading and contributing to the Union. Our very own social network. I was reunited with my best friend from 3 year old Sunday School. With my first crush from that same class. And with family I never knew I had.

For a big family, we have been very lucky. The greatgrandparents lived long and died in their sleep. My Big Mama and Old Daddy both lived into their late 80s and just slipped away. Only two tragedies touched us, to my memory. My Aunt Carol, young and beautiful, with two little kids, went into the hospital for elective surgery and never came out. How does someone die at 32? During the Vietnam war, we shared the agony of that time when our Cousin Kenny was killed. He was not 19. Losses that are mourned forever, but still, we have been lucky.

Now the parents are getting old,  my Baby Boomer cousins and I  are babies no more. We thought the "grownups"   would be those young , laughing people, in Capri pants, and happy forever. Reality came  a couple of weeks ago when, through social networking, prayers were asked for my Aunt Mary. A person universally described as the sweetest lady anyone could ever meet. She loved my Uncle Glenn like a teenage crush throughout 50plus years of marriage. Never a harsh word, only a smile that was so big it made her eyes nearly close. One of my cousins described her has being able to stay above the fray of the family crazies and always find time for a nap on the couch.

Soon daily phone calls to Florida began. And then I got the call that she had passed away. This dear sweet angel gone to heaven.  All I could think of was her smiling , about to laugh. How we looked forward to seeing that Nova pull into the gate at Big Mama's. It meant endless fun. The boys flew out of the car and we knew it was only minutes before we would be headed to the beach.  With Big Daddy in Vietnam, we only went to the beach when the Uncles came to visit. A memory I will never forget.

So, today I sit in my playroom. All quiet, with Tom Berenger 75 miles offshore and Tiny Tot visiting with her grandmother, Mama Mia. I think of my sweet aunts who provided so much love and laughter.  They were blessings to all who knew them. I cherish their memory and encourage others to connect with family. In the end, it is from where our comfort comes.

God Bless Aunt Mary and Aunt Carol,  til we meet again.

I remain,

The Fabulous Ma'am