fifty-sixth in a Wednesday-series of posts detailing the geographical causes of my singleness.
Reason # 56: Downtown
It has been pointed out to me that I am unlikely to meet cool happening cosmipolitan dudes while I do not live Downtown. Where all the lights are bright. Downtown. Even Kevin Turvey recognised the value of going Downtown.
City
Derby is the county seat of Derbyshire on the edge of the Peak district national park. The park is a place of outstanding natural beauty with some wonderful rock-climbing locations. Wikipedia describes the origins of the city’s name thus:
‘Derby’ is a corruption of the Danish and Gaelic Djúra-bý (recorded in Anglo-Saxon as Deoraby) (Village of the Deer); however some assert that it is a corruption of the original Roman name ‘Derventio’. The town was also named ‘Darby’ or ‘Darbye’ on some of the oldest maps, eg. Speed’s 1610 map. The city is one of the few cities that has retained a name with a Viking origin
Contest
According to many websites the orginal Derby race in 1779 was a horse race at Epsom Downs in Surrey named after Edward Smith-Stanley the 12th Earl of Derby. This original horse race has grown into an internationally prestigious event as an annual meet since that year. The Merriam Webster dictionary cites the use Derby as being generalised to cover the ethos of the orginial race meet:
Many people in the US and in Australia pronounce this der-bee as, indeed, the lettering implies.
Hat
The Bowler hat was originally designed with a hard bowl and narrow brim to serve as stylish yet protective headgear for horse riders. Named the Bowler hat in England after its original manufacturers. In the United States they call the bowler hat a Derby hat after the 12th Earl of Derby. Charlie Chaplin, Oliver Hardy and Stan Laurel all wore bowler hats.
Wikipedia also describes a restaurant in Los Angeles that called the Brown Derby Hat, built in the shape of a Bowler.
this baseball cap is helpfully labelled ‘Womens’ to educate novice shoppers that pink is the colour of girls. This hat is a womans hat, not suitable for boys. Can you imagine the forms of social torture that would be heeped upon a boy who with naiveté, bravery or other reason ignored the gender specifying advice? In the face of such tortures what boy would dare to wear the pink?
Inspired by LaCroix’s project to take one photograph per day. I’ve started ‘Project hat’.
Project hat is an attempt to document my collection of over 50, uncounted, hats. I’ll gather the photographs of the hats in their natural use habitat. It may take some time because some hats are rarely worn. Here’s hat #9, a baseball cap that I captured in an impulse moment of boredum while waiting for my Vista laptop to boot…
Yawn….
twenty-sixth in a fluffy series of posts about taking tiffin with (black) tea in the NW USA.
Thursday Tiffin #26: hair it is
According to a recent BBC report, Turkish researchers studied 21 women with unusually high testosterone levels. The women drank 2 cups of spearmint tea a day over 5 days following which their blood testosterone levels were re-checked. Researchers concluded that “Drinking the tea twice a day, reduced levels of male sex hormones“.
No wonder the US tea rooms are all so full of women, they’re all trying to reduce their testosterone levels. Why might women want to reduce their testosterone levels? Reduced testosterone levels correlate with reduced body-hair (face & chest), hirsutism.
Are the women in US tea-rooms reducing their waxing costs and increasing their girliness quotients? Clever. IF you buy into the patriarchially determined fiction that women who remove their hair, waxing, shaving etc are more beautiful, desirable, valuable etc, which of course is only true to the extent that people actually impose this discourse of hairlessness upon us. This discouse is much more oppressive here in the US than in Europe or the UK. It’s pretty bad in the UK as illustrated by this doctors statement within the BBC article:
“Professor Richard Sharpe… ….warned that women suffering from hirsutism… …needed proper medical treatment.”
Apparantly hair is a MEDICAL problem not a social value-set.
Sigh.
nineteenth in a hat wearing series of Thursday posts about taking tiffin with (black) tea in the NW USA.
Thursday Tiffin #19: red hat society.
What is the Red Hat Society? According to their official website:
“The Red Hat Society began as a result of a few women deciding to greet middle age with verve, humor and elan. We believe silliness is the comedy relief of life, and since we are all in it together, we might as well join red-gloved hands and go for the gusto together. Underneath the frivolity, we share a bond of affection, forged by common life experiences and a genuine enthusiasm for wherever life takes us next.”
What do they do? According to their offifical website:
Nothing
To me they represent a celebration of decadence. They get dressed up and go to tea rooms. This society, these ladies, encapsulate my main experience of USA versions of English tea rooms. Luckily there are exceptions. Possibly the society is the main target customer for the establishments I’ve found. The dominant theme is that taking tea is merely something frivolous that only women to do, surrounded by flowers and small cute pink things. To me this theme is a limited and unappealing experience. Obivously, I am not, and have no intention of becoming a member of the red hat society. It distrubs me that superficially I have a lot in common with their membership: a female in the USA, approaching 50, having distinctly silly tendencies, owning more than one red hat and requiring an almost constant supply of tea. A glance at this local gathering of the society partially reassures me that my deportment visually distinguishes me from these ladies.
My understanding of taking tea is broader than the main theme I’m seeing in USA English-style tea rooms. My understanding involves the taking of tea being the back-drop to worthy thought and deed. In my fertile, inaccurate, imagination I picture Einstein with a cup of tea while developing relativity theory, Mozart with a cup of tea while composing the magic flute, Churchill with a cup of tea while planning the Normandy invsions, Nick Cave while composing a love song, Aristotle with a cup of tea in the bath…
With one notable exception I have managed to avoid shops that sell unnecessary things at bargain prices that help you save money, by spending money, during the January sales. This is the story of my notable exception.
While exploring the small Olympic Penisula town of Sequim, pronounced ‘squwim’, I found a clothes shop with more than 4 interesting hats in the window. Drawn in for the fun of trying on hats. Strewn all around the shop were more, more, MORE hats. Hand-made, innovative hats. I asked one of the 3 shop assistants if they had a card of the milliner. No. Do they know if the milliner has a website? no.
Sigh. I may never find hats by this Milliner again. After an hour or so experimenting with 30 plus hats while the 3 shop assistants left me to my game, I realised that I would be uable to leave the without making a purchase. I selected 3 hats that filled niche’s in my current collection and carried them over to the counter where the assistants were merrily chatting and solicted their expert advice.
Which of these 3 hats should I buy?
The youngest assistant, possibly in her late teens liked they way I looked in the powder-blue closh. I liked the softness of the wool, orginality of the 1920′s style inspired design. The middle-aged assistant liked the aubergine (US = eggplant) velvet floppy affair. The colour is that of my PhD university gown. The elderly assistant liked the black-white-grey fluffy pillbox. As the three ladies argued amongst themselves about the relative benefits of each hat I listended intently. I asked myself
In a rare moment of wreckless purchasing I whipped out my credit card and bought all three for under $60.00 (approximately thirty quid). The assistants were all happy that I had valued each of their advice and favoured none.
Later I discovered that Parkhurst (Blue closh Milliner) hat’s are sold online. Dangerous knowledge for a Wendy to have…..
how can you resist a hat
with its jaunty stylish flair?
Ecstatic manes tamed. Quite-flat.
hiding dull or …unwashed… hair.
Sunshine can not harm your skin
shaded ‘neath a dashing brim
reducing signs of agin’
by keeping the daylight dim
Wear it as a shower cap
parade it in the high street.
Stay together as you nap,
apart, …you’ll be…. ….incomplete.
No more whiplash, yelping, shocks
in bed reaching for your Tea.
He didn’t rest ’pon your locks
they’re not sprawling knottily*
Nov. 2006. 2 verses and an attempt to rhyme is a major achievement for me. Yay! Local friends and colleagues can testify to my persistent use of headgear in a crisis. I do indeed wear them in the shower, the bath, at work, on boats, planes and trains, while napping and occassionaly in bed. Before I took to wearing a hat in bed my ex-fiancee would accidentaly lay on my hair causing my unanticipated whiplash style yelpings of pain.
*for this poem knottily is pronounced to make it difficult to distinguish from ’naughtily’.
What little luxuries light your proverbial fires?
OK, I admit it. I’ve taken lots of naughty scenic photographs that have been upstaged by multiple profesional photographers before me. Darn. But no-one. Yeah! No-one has caught me in my hat with flat Eric as well as my co-pilot (world traveller) did with this outstanding picture. Don’t you just wish you were with us?…
On a warm weekday evening Chris Issak played a wonderful outdoors concert at Chateau St Michelle. The shere volume of people attending the concert marred an otherwise exceptional evening.
My companions arrived over an hour later than anticipated merely because of traffic congestion. The Chateau provided sufficient parking and a shuttle bus service to carry customers to and from their cars.
I have difficulty controlling my panic in crowds. Fear of Crowds. FOC an appropriate acronym. ”FOC! lots of people, let me out of here!”
It was difficult to relax during the concert because of the powerful urge to skedaddle. Normally I can ignore crowds by focussing on a conversation nearby, the main event, or some specific activity (e.g. watching a film). When this fails the Cinderalla Effect comes into play. I leave. Quickly. Despite the excellent music, good companions and cheerful nature of the crowd I left at 9.15pm before Chris Isaak had finished his main set.
Mid-escape a girl stopped me “I love your outfit!” she beamed, “I love your…. (pause while Wendy finds something to compliment) …facial piercings” I choked over my shoulder while dashing directly to the shuttle bus service.
Wendy FOC’d-off
I anticipate this will be the first post in a rather lengthy Wednesday series of “why wendy’s single”
Reason # 1: Hat fetishist
Evidence:
Date: getting used to the hats will take some time (provides a solemn looking frown)
Wendy: life’s tough, I have every confidence in your being able to cope with the hats (is he serious or is that dry wit?)
later
Date: I think my son will like you but it will take time for him to get used to the hats and the nose stud
Wendy: family trait?
Later? There wasn’t any later. People who spend time angsting about my wearing hats have an unhealthily distroportionate sense of what is worth angsting over….
The phrase ‘mad as a hatter’ describes unpredictable behaviour. It originated from the middle ages when felt hats were made using a toxic substance called mercurous nitrate which caused symptoms similar to Parkinsons disease. People behaving like this (hatters) were assumed to be mad (UK, Crazy US). The phrase became more common after Lewis Carroll used it for a character in ‘Alice in wonderland’.
I am not a talented accessorizer. I do adore hats. They are a fabulous way of keeping
Here’s an insight into the unboxed part of my addiction. Approximately 40 hats:
20 brilliant things. A self-referential indulgence
Any one of these things can make my day sparkle:
What is really brilliant is that this list could go on and on and on and on…. …there are soooooooo many brilliant thangs… …your brilliant list of things is probably different. May include furry bedding or something. What-ever, lots of goodies for the holidays.
W wonderful-thanging
