The Hat Rediscovered
We used to have a Bloomingdales in our neighbourhood. It was a ten minute walk from the house. I absolutely loved that high end department store. I went there at least once a week. I would browse through the aisles in a leisurely manner. Sometimes I would buy something, most times I did not. The only things I bought from there on a regular basis were their pantyhose. In those days, no properly well-dressed lady left her house without the proper accoutrements - preferably a demure suit, a stylish handbag, pantyhose, and pumps. My friends and I would either gather at each other’s homes for luncheons or tea, or if we were a smaller group, at a restaurant for lunch. Our children were young, and we always made sure we got home before three o’clock to be there when they arrived from school.
Years passed, and my children were now in college. I still loved going to Bloomingdales. I still dressed in an elegant manner, a nice dress or suit, pantyhose, and pumps. In my circle of friends, pants were frowned upon. Indeed, even at work, women did not wear trouser suits. It took a few years before they became accepted. It then seemed to degenerate to looking somewhat like an impoverished total slob. For some reason, that almost became the height of fashion. Good taste seemed to have flown out of the window. Sometimes I shake my head in disbelief. Have they forgotten to change from their night clothes when they left their homes? The generation gap is truly alive and well!
At any rate, one day, as I was meandering through the aisles of that department store, my eyes fell upon the most beautiful, most elegant hat ever. It was a wide-brimmed black number. It looked like the iconic hat that Audrey Hepburn wore in one of her films, perhaps in the film, Love in the Afternoon. There is a photograph of her wearing that hat. I stopped and gazed at it, spellbound. Slowly, I inched toward the counter where it stood displayed on a hat stand. I simply could not take my eyes off it. I stretched my hand and touched it. It felt like it was meant for me. I gingerly lifted it from its stand and placed it upon my head. I loved it! I knew I must own it! I looked for the price tag. It was discreetly tucked in the inner band of the hat. My eyes grew wide in astonishment as I read the price. $250.00! That hat was priced at $250.00! There was no way I could justify buying it at that price. Even today, I would not pay that sum for it, let alone some thirty or so years ago. I tucked the price tag back where it was, gave the hat a caress, and regretfully returned it to its stand. Then, I sadly walked away.
The hat was there each time I went to Bloomingdale. My eyes greedily searched for it. It seemed to have a life of its own. It seemed to beckon me as I entered the store. ‘’I’m here! I’m here!’’ it cried out to me. Every time I saw it, I checked the price; it still was unchanged. Then came the end of the season sale. I hoped they would reduce the price then.
It was the weekend. It was a beautiful morning. Peter and I were out taking our morning walk that day. As we passed the department store, I mentioned that they were having a sale and suggested we go in to see if there was anything of interest. We entered and began browsing. Of course, I had to check if my hat was still there and if they had reduced its price. I approached it, hoping beyond hope that they had reduced the price. They had! It was now $50.00! I did not have to try it on; I had tried it countless times. I knew it was time to take it home. I stretched my arms as if to embrace it. I gently held it as if it was a precious baby. When Peter saw me pick the hat and walk to the cashier, he asked in an outraged tone, ‘’What are you doing? Surely you are not paying $50.00 for that ridiculous hat?’’ he asked. With a happy smile on my face, I nodded my assent. ‘’I have been waiting a long time for the price of this hat to drop,’’ I explained. Peter, being Peter, rarely ever said no to me. This time he did not either, but he was not too happy.
The cashier asked me if I wanted it wrapped. I did not. I wore it all the way home, with Peter scolding all along the way. He never missed an opportunity to make sarcastic remarks about it. It was quite an impractical hat, I must admit, but I loved it nevertheless. It made a statement. Peter, on the other hand, never ceased to chide me each time I wore it. ‘’Why do you always have to make such outrageous statements?’’ he would ask in frustration, each time I wore the hat. The only time he seemed to not mind my wearing it was at Matthew’s graduation. Our group found us quite easily because of that hat. Alas, the day finally came when I retired it. I put it away and forgot all about it. Peter breathed a sigh of relief. It has been put away so many years now. Then, the other day, I spotted it, cast aside and forlorn, with one of Peter’s hats in a corner of the basement. It looked so old and haggard. I sadly smiled as I gently picked it up and gave it a caress for one last time. The passage of time sadly makes people and once-loved objects dispensable, and so it was with my hat. There it was curled up, and forlorn snuggled next to Peter’s hat. Ah! The passage of time.