Easter: bonnets, bows, & blarney

I went shopping with my daughter the other day. We were looking for Easter dresses. It’s a tradition. Every year at this time we must head out into the great encapsulated clothes barn, often called the mall, and search for a poofy, frilly, lacy, girly, type outfit that will satisfy the early spring, budding fantasies of a world where girls are feminine princesses that spin and twirl.

Much like the tradition of eating ham on Easter Sunday, the wearing of frilly spring dresses has been passed down for hundreds of years, more or less. Accessories have changed somewhat, depending on what part of the country you live in. You would think that living up north where spring is often colder than Christmas day, we would have kept the tradition of white gloves, if only to keep our hands warm.

But only in the gentler, slow-talking south do they cling to such formality – that and the wearing of bonnets. The south obviously has stronger ties to the reign of tyranny from the days when the King of England ran roughshod over our colonies with his men in scarlet broadcloth. Southerners still look to the Queen in her gloves and hat as the perfect example of all that is proper. Up north in Minnesota we look to see what the purple Princeis wearing. He’s pretty frilly too.

My mom always made my Easter dresses when I was a kid. But we still had to go to the department store to pick up new white gloves, white dress shoes, and a cute little purse to match. I don’t really know why, other than because my mom was born in Texas and she felt it her duty to try to turn me into a frilly girl child. But dressing me up never seemed to work. Those gloves were filthy before morning church service was over. Probably because somebody didn’t do their due diligence in dusting off the pews. The toes of my shoes were scuffed and I usually lost my purse somewhere outside hunting for eggs. By the time ham dinner was set on the table the curls in my hair had straightened, the bows fell out, my dress was ripped from climbing a tree, my gloves were being used for batting practice, and I came in the house with dog poop on my new shoes.

I’m already missing my gloves…

Aww, memories… it’s what makes tradition repeatable.

Comments

Brink Girl says
April 7, 2012 at 12:25 am

cute!

ShirleyMcLain says
April 7, 2012 at 12:21 pm

Your blog certainly brought back a lot of memories to me. When I was a little girl living in California back in the 50’s, Easter was a very special time. That was the day my mother took me to church in my fancy dress, hat, shoes and yes those lovely white gloves. My sister was like you. Mom would start her out looking as cute as a doll but within an hour my sister would have pulled or tore the dress off because the lace itched and shed her shoes because she didn’t like wearing them. She was all for comfort.

My children were treated the same way, minus the gloves. I had the prettiest little girl and a very handsome son, and then they grew up.

Now there is no special clothes for my grandchildren, just nice Sunday clothes if they go to church. I think the tradition as far as my family goes has been lost to time. It is a shame.

Gridiron says
April 7, 2012 at 5:18 pm

I got to get dressed up in matching dresses only diff colors from my 3 sisters! It was always so much fun! NOT! but that didnt keep me from dressing my 2 girls alike also! Oh bring back the days of my babies!!!!