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SPEAKS UP  |
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In the Jan. 13 edition of TheColumnists.com, Sid Frigand presented "Color Me Aubergine," his column about the color purple. This is Patricia J. Geister's reaction to the observations in Frigand's column. |
By PATRICIA J. GEISTER
of TheColumnists.com
Sid, this in appreciation to you. Your column on aubergine struck a happy chord. A year ago I joined The Red Hat Society, a worldwide, rapidly growing organization for women "of a certain age," meaning we have to be at least 50 years young, forget old. I told them I was lying about my age to join. I knew they had, too. That always gets a big laugh.
We doll up in purple outfits and glorify them with our red hats. Louella Parsons' and Hedda Hopper's chapeaus were amateurish compared to what some of us wear. Our goal is to have FUN! spend money! and be noticed as a group of happy women! Gone is the stigma of wearing purple and being dubbed "an old lady." Now when I go shopping my hand instinctively reaches for something purple. The demand for hats, especially red ones, resurrected the hat fashion and industry. Really. We did that.
This past November a few chapters from British Columbia, along with those in and around Seattle, and across Puget Sound, got together to see the stage play version of "The Full Monty." If you've seen the movie you know that the final scene has the male dancers stripping down to their bikinis, ripping off said skivvies and tossing them to the screaming crowd of women. Those in the movie audience only got to see their back sides. (I've watched it twice on TV and twice in theaters, hoping and hoping they'd turn around.) Anyway, I made all of our gang agree that if the guys on stage didn't let us see them in all their glory, full frontal nudity, we'd picket the theater, demanding to see the true "full Monty," or get our money back. Those tickets were expensive and we wanted to see what we came for.
Our crowd of 75 laughing, chattering, Red Hatters got out of a caravan of long, black limousines in front of the 5th Avenue Theater. Instantly all eyes were on us. The crowd on the sidewalk was fascinated. We made quite an entrance and got a smattering of applause.
Inside the theater, both men and women, were coming up to us full of questions.
"What are you, a sorority?"
"Is there a costume party going on? Can I go with you?"
"How do I get into this group?" That question came from both genders.
One young woman aproached me saying that she thought I looked familiar. When asked where she might have seen me or my picture, I asked if she had visited our Columnists site, or had she read my book, "Say Good Night to the Moon."
"Yes! Yes!" she squealed. Now I know you! My sister bought a copy of your book for us both! May I have your autograph, please?"
I made her happy by signing my business card. As a result, she's now one of our Columnists readers. A companion Hatter saw this happen and thought our organization had become so popular that we had to prepare for autograph hounds. Well, you never know.
A good time was had by all. The audience (we Hatters especially) shouted, laughed, while applauding vigorously. The men did strip down to bare skin, bless them. However, at the split second that they tore off their bikinis, the spotlight ceased to shine on them, leaving them barely backlit. The crowd jumped up and down! We cheered! The roof shuddered! Those Hatters close enough to the stage hurled red lingerie in profuse appreciation. We were saved from walking the picket line. Darn, and I wanted to, even though I did get my wish. Remember, good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go anywhere they want.
So, Sid, I thank you for enlightening me with the history of what has become my favorite color in its many glorious shades. Aubergine does sound so sophisticated. Now I, too, can pretend to be a "lady"--if only for short spans of time.
Below is a portion of the
poem that inspired our Queen Mother to start The Red Hat Society.
WARNING
When I am an old woman
I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens . . .
But maybe I ought to practice
a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
* We do not own the rights
to this poem, and have secured permission from the author, Jenny
Joseph, to post as much as we have shown here. An unedited version
of the poem may be found on sale at the Red Hat Imperium.
The column is ©2003 by Patricia J. Geister. The illustration
is from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd.
E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA.
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