Nurse Judy, my fashionable diva alter-ego, and I have been invited to the Havana Garden Club’s Forty-Year Celebration.
It’s not until May 14, but Nurse Judy immediately insisted on shopping for a hat to wear to the exciting event.
I kept telling her there was plenty of time for that, but she would not listen.
Thus, I have been driving her around town for the past week seeking the perfect covering for her imperfect head.
What surprises me is all the hats she has rejected.
I have shown her hats that I was sure would satisfy her need for excess. They have been loaded with flowers, butterflies, birds, bird’s eggs, lace, organza, tulle and even colored gemstones, but she has turned down every one.
I decided she must be holding out for a new tiara, so I drove her to a jewelry store, but she elicited no interest in the beautiful choices there.
Completely frustrated, I confronted her.
“Nurse Judy,” I said, “what in the world are you looking for? Why are you obsessed with the hat rather than your entire ensemble? Just pick a hat that matches one of your fancy gowns and be done with it.”
She gives me the evil eye.
“I might have known you wouldn’t understand with your totally limited fashion sense,” she says. “Any born southern woman knows that the hat is the crowning glory for any outfit. Even Scarlett O’Hara knew that. She may have worn a gown made from drapes, but she topped it with a beautiful chapeaux.”
It takes me a moment to digest this.
There are discrepancies in what she’s just said.
For starters, she and I are not born southerners.
We are transplanted northerners, who happen to love the south.
Also, I don’t remember anything about a hat being worn by Scarlett with her drape dress in “Gone with the Wind.”
I decide not to start an argument, however.
I aim to appease her instead.
“You have such good taste and so many exquisite outfits that I don’t think any hat could outshine them,” I say.
That does the trick.
She smiles benevolently at me as we continue our search, and in short order she has decided on a hat.
I am shocked when she shows it to me.
It is a very simple brimmed navy blue hat. It is cute — something I might wear — but definitely not what I would expect Nurse Judy to wear.
I am proud of her.
Not only was it inexpensive but so much more practical than her usual gaudy choices.
I believe she has listened to my advice.
We ride home harmoniously.
She has a little smile on her lips as I try to figure out what outfit the hat matches.
I finally turn to her for the answer.
“Oh,” she says with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “It doesn’t match anything I have. That’s why I’ll have to have a completely new gown, shoes and accessories. I have nothing in navy.”
That little scamp. She’s outfoxed me again.