Red Hat Society

I could tell you about all the clothes I have found through out the years of thrifting. The pieces that bring me most joy and fulfill an empowering walk within that day. I could also walk through my room remembering the stories behind each random thing, because quite frankly I don’t remember where I get somethings, unless I really think about it. Today I want to take you back to a few months ago when I seemed to binge purchase, things that seemly match a file in my brain.

You see, I had been looking for certain things, specifically costumes and masks for a halloween music video I was trying to create. On my route, I found myself distracted, or as I call it recreating, an adding things to list if they peeked my interest. Things like sunglasses with a dangling mustang attached to it. To an animal head shaped hat that continued down as a scarf that matched the paws of the animal creating mittens for your hands. Things you would find at pop ups at your outside mall, or Claire’s on a rainy Sunday. The thing I found didn’t match a nostalgia for most, unless their grandmother too, had placed a roll in the red hat society. A society filled with old women who shared the love for purple 3 piece suits and hats that stood out from miles away. I didn’t find a hat, for I felt no need to place one on my head. Purple, although new to my collection, consumed of lavender instead of a bold forest purple, was not to be added this day. So what is led to this story attached to rambles you may ask? A box for a hat.

Something lured me in with awe as I went to lift the box, feeling the weight as if I expected something to be inside. There was always something about boxes that always intrigued me with their presence. Perhaps it was the unknown that comes along with it, guessing the capabilities of what it could hold. Or was is the obsession of saving boxes to recuse for gifts that turned into a new indication outside of first hand boxes. Wherever it may have came from, it follows and I feel no need to put it aside. After all it isn’t harming anyone. Not like the time my mother had opened a Tiffany box from her sister on Christmas to only find a pair of socks inside. Although we all found it to be humorous, the light hearted joke seemed to bestow a grudge within my mother. With no intentions of regifting this box or even using it as a tease, I took it home to create a use.

Now if you aren’t familiar with hat boxes you would assume it was just a circular box, but I knew. I knew I wasn’t going to put hats in it, being that it was shaped for a floppy hat and I only owned a baseball hat, I had ideas of my own. A simple task for this box, yet it made me feel more at ease. I simply would use this box for putting papers in it. A filing cabinet in sorts, using tags that share the difference in sections. The box shared enough color to draw attention, but not enough to clash any room. Its’ walls were made from former magazines and newspapers that were folded like an accordion. It wrapped around the sides and front as the top shared a ribbed felt black print. The beauty of the creation is what really drew me in. I loved the invention of a box that could have simply been just the black rib, and now with the recycling of more, it shares a double duty purchase in the thrifting world.