Jo'Burg Days: The Pink Feather Hat
Barbara Durlacher tells a colourful tale about a woman who thinks too much of herself.
“Oooh! I do like this! It suits me a real treat!” the woman said, delicately placing the ridiculous pink feather hat on her lank, over-permed yellow hair, squinting meanwhile through the smoke of her cigarette, as her nicotine-stained fingers attempted to tuck in the wisps escaping from a jewelled Alice-band.
‘You! Yes, you over there! Bring me that aubergine-coloured shrug and the yellow satin shift. I’ll just about be able to squeeze into the dress and the pretty little shoulder thingie just makes it, don’t you think?” she twittered, twirling this way and that, as she admired herself in the mirror, the pink feather hat nodding and dancing as she moved.
Grunting, she pushed her feet into the Size 4 sequinned electric-green pumps. Staggering out the door she minced down the street, casting admiring glances at her reflection in the shop windows as she passed.
“Cor, will ya look at thaaaat!” the youngest girl gasped to her friend as the woman passed by. Bit over the top don’t ya think? Those ghastly colours, and on a woman of her age too. She really fancies herself, and no mistake!”
“Silly old cow! Talk about mutton dressed as lamb!” her friend agreed.
