More Lessons from The Big Black Hat…
Ok, so now I own a Big Black Hat. It actually looks pretty good on my wall, something I hadn’t anticipated when I purchased it. Aside from the decorating advantage, I also find looking at it reminds me to take some care and thought about what I wear regardless of where I’m going. Not that I’m going to get all dressed up to go to the grocery store but a cuter sandal, fun bracelet or more interesting casual earring are not so much trouble and I honestly do feel better for it. It seems to be a sister or cousin to the organized clean house thing and the simple but not so subtle effect on the self esteem.
But the black hat kind of got me thinking and remembering. It brought back memories of the little upscale boutique I opened in the arts district here in Scottsdale when I first moved here. I have always loved hats and used to collect them so one of the things I carried in the store, just for the fun of it, was hats. Not too many but the ones I offered were very flamboyant. I sold a few of them and scattered a few from my “private collection” for ambiance. One of the hats, an outrageous red feather hat, became quite a conversation piece and an interesting ice breaker for the women who came into my store.
The Red Hat
I had strategically placed this hat in a cozy out of the way corner next to a huge antique looking footed mirror. There were very few women who could resist trying it on. Oddly it became a constant source of entertainment for me as well as my customers. Some would be boisterous about it and prance around the store modeling and laughing, so much laughter. I was treated to jokes and hilarious fictitious scenarios about the hat. It usually created a hat trying frenzy and in the course of their visit all of my hats would be sampled.
Even more interesting was the effect it had on the shy quiet women who would come in clearly wanting to be left alone if not invisible. Generally she would be conservatively dressed, eyes never meeting mine and painfully quiet. Arms tense and hands tightly grasping her purse her body language screamed; don’t talk to me, don’t watch or look at me, leave me alone. The hat’s effect on this type of woman was truly fascinating. It was like watching a feral cat eye food in a trap who ultimately succumbs after a long cautious wait and thought process. (Please note: no cats were harmed in this example. All were neuter and returned to their territory.) This woman would slowly make her way through the store carefully touching the clothes here and there as if they might jump off the hanger at her. Then it would happen, she would see the hat. Her body would freeze as she gazed up at the hat and a private inner conversation would occur. After a minute or so, as if suddenly afraid someone might mistake her gaze for interest, she would catch herself and return to her previous demeanor while carefully looking around to see if anyone noticed. The saunter would resume with a number of visits back to the hat. At this point I would casually make a funny comment about the hat and assure her that it was not for sale, from my private collection and take it down for her to have a touch. From there a curtain would begin to open. I would tell her how everyone loved to try it on, just for the fun, and she would dutifully hold it in her hands eyeing it curiously.
It was at this point I would pretend the need to take care of something up front and leave her holding the hat, in front of the big antique looking mirror, all by herself. This is when the real magic would begin. I would secretly watch as her body would begin to communicate a myriad of things from somewhere deep within her. Tentative at first, then relaxing into the moment as she put it on and slowly, ever so slowly her body would change. The head would rise in a perfect snooty tilt, then a side view and then a touch. Then another slight adjustment and her face would tell a tale of who might be hidden inside. It would generally last for a couple of minutes and the curtain would fall. Her body would resume its closed stance and usually this type of person would say thank you as she hurried out the door as if caught in an unguarded forbidden moment. On occasion it created hesitant conversation but a more relaxed and comfortable demeanor that would allow for further, if not cautious exploration. Clearly my store was not the place for the conservative at heart but it was always fun to see this type of person take a moment to step out of her comfort zone into a world of other possibilities and parts of herself she had either forgotton or had yet to explore.
I had purchased the hat to sell but once I realized the power of this hat it quickly became a part of my private collection. As they say, price of the hat $200.00, the feelings it elicited, priceless. Although I no longer collect hats, as all previous serious hat collectors do, I saved a few I could not bear to part with. Somewhere in time they all wound up in the top of an unused closet waiting for that magical day when my granddaughter will reach the age for dress up. I’m definitely going to shine here and can’t wait for the pleasant hours we will spend together playing in this special place. Along with the hats are long beaded gowns, boas, shawls, gaudy jewelry and more!
Yet another lesson and a priceless memory from the Big Black Hat… Now I am planning to have a little hen party, as we used to call them in Texas. It’s been years since I have done this and I recall how much I and everyone used to enjoy it. This is a gathering where personas are left at the door and we, as nothing more than women, commune and celebrate that mystical undefinable thing that is loosly known as the feminine mystic that we all share. I plan to purchase a couple of hat racks and strategically place a few hats and mirrors around my rooms. I’m betting that somewhere in the day guards will be dropped and we will find ourselves sharing in a rejuvenating feminine ritual.
Yes it definitely might be time for a big girl hen party and perhaps it’s time to bring the hats out of storage. Now that I am a woman of a certain age, what I at one time viewed as an amusing oddity, somehow seems to have a much deeper meaning.
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Deborah Hayes, CTA Life Coach
Empowering women to live a life of consequence, a life without regrets that is your own unique version of the life you love. About Deborah
deborah@womenintransitiononline.com
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