Fort House Committee will present the Fort House Hat Show on June 9. It will feature my own hat collection along with vintage fashions from Amy Bradshaw’s Bloom & Bee Swanky shop on South Fifth Street. 

My special interest in hats began years ago when I lived in the San Francisco Bay area. I had been studying fashion history in college and, quite naturally, began to collect antique clothing and accessories. It was the fashion accessories that really touched my fancy, especially hats from the first half of the 20^th century. Amassing enough outstanding examples of millinery and all their time-appropriate accessories such as purses, furs, jewelry and gloves, I began giving hat show programs for women’s groups of that area. 

Kim Williams in whimsical wool checked topper. Hat is from the author’s private collection.

Folks seldom wear hats today, but in the past, they were practically mandatory. Wearing some sort of headgear was a most practical means of identification for men, women and children. 

For instance, if you were to be set down in a bustling piazza of Renaissance Florence and were a knowledgeable observer, you would be able to identify the rank or occupation of every person there. The proud woman wearing a silk brocade turban might be the wife of a Medici prince. The sturdy fellow with a leather skullcap would be a humble craftsman. The dignified old gentleman in a black velvet toque would be a university professor. Your hat declared your social or professional position in the community. 

People ask me about the disappearance of the hat. Americans live in an egalitarian society where a person’s social or occupational identity aren’t always important. We have evolved to a point where headgear as a means of identification is deemed unnecessary. I’m also convinced that the blue jean revolution is a factor because such a casual silhouette needs no topper.  

Movies from the early 20^th century usually include hats. Humphrey Bogart goes out and he puts on his hat. He comes back in and removes his hat. Ladies were always properly hatted and gloved, since the two traditionally went together. Of course, in a social situation such as a tea party or church gathering, she would not remove her hat. Most likely, she would not remove her gloves, either.  

There’s an amusing story about New Yorker Bella Abzug, one of the few women to be elected to Congress in the 1960s. She always wore a hat when campaigning, making it her trademark.  On her first day at Congress, as she entered the hall wearing a hat, a porter asked if she would be removing it in the manner of all the other congressmen. Of course, he most likely had been put up to the joke. She rebuffed him and sailed on into the great hall to take her place, still wearing her hat.

An astute historian can pinpoint the 1960s as the decade that hats began to disappear from the fashion landscape. Sometimes, a single person can affect the direction of fashion. Even though she was otherwise a fashion icon, Jackie Kennedy had no use for hats. In her capacity as first lady, she felt obliged to wear a hat, but they were always negligible little pill boxes worn on the back of the head. About that time, the bouffant coiffeur was born. This heavily back-combed, lacquered “big hair” pouf allowed no place for a hat. 

The final blow was the 1960 Encyclical of the Roman Catholic Church, which released women from covering their heads in church. Because of these occurrences, an entire industry went down the drain. Along with it went the glove industry. Eventually, all the glove manufacturers, with their crews of fine craftsmen, disappeared.

Today’s serious collector is usually interested in hats dating no later than the 1950s. I believe the most distinctive hats date from the Edwardian period (1900-15) to the World War II years of the 1940s. 

Edwardian milliners showed little constraint when it came to daring shapes and embellishments. They created hats as wide as tea trays and piled them high with feathers, flowers and an occasional stuffed bird. Designers of the 1940s war years seemed to feel that women needed fantasy and escape, so their hats reflected that.

Fashion’s most daring designer of mid-20^th century, Elsa Schiaparelli, claimed that women would wear the most outrageous headgear. She bragged that she could make a hat out of anything. On a dare, she chose the shape of a shoe, fashioned it out of felt and plunked it on a model’s head. Life magazine ran a full-page photo of the crazy style.

Lois Elliott in 1940s era pink silk organza picture hat.

Amanda Nesbitt in yellow pillbox hat with scarf. Hat is from the author’s private collection.

Pictured at right is the first hat in my collection, from the 1940s, found in a Pasadena, Calif., antiques shop. This gorgeous pink picture hat is labeled Bullock’s Wilshire, a very posh shop on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles. It most likely cost several hundred dollars when new. It is made of silk organza over a wire frame and the brim is decorated with large silk cabbage roses. What woman wouldn’t feel like a queen in such a hat?

Another hat from my collection shown on the preceding page is a provocative little straw pillbox with a silk scarf, from the 1940s. It was the ultimate flattery. The saleswoman would have cooed, “My dear, it’s you!” It was made during World War II, when the fashion silhouette featured padded shoulders and short skirts. Wartime textile shortages had brought about government restrictions, which regulated the amount of fabric that could be used for a garment. Perhaps because of these restrictions on clothing, milliners had a field day, and their imaginations knew no bounds. 

My husband laughs every time he sees the checked wool number, far right on the preceding page. He’s convinced the milliner was influenced by the swirling, modern rooftop of the General Electric building at the 1939 World’s Fair in New York. As a little boy, he attended the fair, which was called The World of Tomorrow. All the pavillions were very dramatic and futuristic. 

Fort House members invite you to join the fun. Wear your favorite hat or even make one. We will award prizes for the most beautiful hat, most absurd, most inventive and oldest. I remember a hat show years ago at Ridgewood Country Club. One guest came as a dunce. She had taken a newspaper page and rolled it into a tall cone. Voila — a hat.

The Fort House Hat Show luncheon will be at 11:30 a.m. June 9 at Barron’s on Fifth, 1705 N. Fifth St.  The menu, prepared by Fort House members, will consist of recipes from the Fort House Tea Room cookbook. Many folks may remember the tea room as a popular place for lunch during the 1970s. Such dishes as chicken salad, Coca Cola gelatine salad and copper carrots will be taken directly from the book.     

 Tickets to this event cost $35. Proceeds will go toward Fort House Museum’s various projects. Reservations can be made by calling 751-0352. And don’t forget to wear a hat.

FYI

Sweet memory: It’s springtime and the Silver Moon Roses, which decorate the front wall of East Terrace, are blooming. I never see these lovely white antique roses without thinking of Mary Alice O’Dowd. There are many of us who remember that little lady who always found something constructive to do in her community. For years, she was present at the annual Historic Waco Foundation Brazos River Festival, wearing her big, floppy pink hat and selling potted Silver Moon Roses. The plants she sold to benefit her beloved East Terrace most likely are blooming all over Waco today. Fond memories, Mary Alice.   

Hot off the press: The Tribune-Herald and Historic Waco Foundation announce the arrival of my new book, Selections From Portals to the Past, several dozen of my Waco Today columns. It will be sold at the Fort House Hat Show for $20. All profits will go to Historic Waco Foundation. I will be there to autograph copies.

Claire Masters is a long-time supporter of Historic Waco Foundation, and has a passion for making sure the stories of Waco’s past are remembered and appreciated by all its citizens.