I’ve always loved the hats and bonnets of the Regency Era.
Really, they do.
First, what’s the difference between a hat and bonnet? I confess, I didn’t know myself.
Bonnets tie on, usually with ribbons, and hats don’t; simple as that
Today, I’m focusing on the types bonnets that would have been worn away from the home, not the simple lace caps that were common indoors, mostly by married women or spinsters.
As hairstyles changed in the late 1700s and early 1800s, so did hair accessories.
Remember, hats and bonnets accommodated the current hair fashion, so as styles shifted, so did the shape and size of women’s hair toppers. Bigger hair and bonnets gave way to smaller styles .
Commonly decorated with silk flowers, feathers (and the occasional stuffed bird) ribbons and lace, typical head coverings ranged from simple straw caps to elegantly adorned bonnets.
Hat making is especially dear to my heart.
I have some of her hat pins dating back to the early 1900s.
So, do you wear hats beside the occasional baseball cap or winter woolen?
Enjoy an excerpt from Triumph and Treasure
(Highland Heather Romancing a Scot Series-December 3, 2014)
The butler gave the briefest of bows. “Good afternoon, Lord Bretheridge.”
He peered down his reedy nose.
Considering the top of the fellow’s head didn’t meet Flynn’s nose, the effect was rather comical. He was sorely tempted to stand taller to see if the man would tilt his head further. Except Flynn feared the majordomo might tumble tail over top backward if he did.
He almost grinned at the image. “Good afternoon to you as well. And your name?”
“Saunders, sir.” The butler exhaled an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose you wish to be relieved of your hat and gloves?”
No, I intend to take tea with them on.
Flynn hadn’t imagined the annoyance in Saunders’s voice. Where in God’s name had Waterford found the surly chap? And why hadn’t he sacked him long before this?
“Sir, your hat?”
“Yes, please.” Flynn passed the items to the butler’s outstretched hand.
The majordomo placed them on a table before closing the thick, arched door. Nose in the air, he marched past Flynn, sparing him nary a glance. “Their Graces and Mrs. Thorne await you in the drawing room. Tea has been served already.”
What the blazes? Mrs. Thorne?
The niece was married—no, had been married? Thus, the black garb.
The plot thickened.
Why so desperate to marry off a widowed niece? Something didn’t add up. A huge piece of the puzzle was missing. No doubt during tea today, that tidbit would be served up, whole and raw. He’d be expected to swallow the distasteful thing without complaint.
“Sir, are you coming?” Impatience laced Saunders’s voice.
“Yes, forgive me, I was distracted by . . .” Flynn swiftly skimmed the entry for a logical excuse. “Distracted by that.”
He pointed to a moth eaten five-point red deer with one ear hanging loose and missing a glass eye. The stuffed animal hung askew above the entrance. “What a spectacular trophy. Did His Grace shoot the buck on the estate?”
Saunders raised a brow, no doubt thinking Flynn was a cork-brained ninnyhammer.
“No. He did not.” The majordomo continued marching along the corridor.
No, the duke didn’t shoot it, or no, it hadn’t been shot on the estate?
Here’s your Romantic Pursuit question:
What hung askew above the entrance?
All images are courtesy of Wikimedia Commons