You guys know all about the Red Hat Society, right? The 50-and-older ladies all over town dressed in obnoxious purple outfits with red hats … 

They are there, at the table next to you at lunch, telling long-winded stories to the waitress who hasn’t taken your order yet. They are in back of you at the ice-cream shop, giggling among themselves, as you’re threatening to take all TV privileges away from your son for sticking his cone in his sister’s face. 

They are a reminder, always, to … HAVE MORE FUN. 

Which is why, even if I seem annoyed by them, I am actually refreshed by their philosophy, based, of course, on the poem by Jenny Joseph, “When I Am an Old Woman.”

Keep in mind, however, that I prefer fuchsia to purple. Because a psychic once told me that my aura was fuchsia. I don’t think she meant it as a compliment.

When I Am an Old Woman 

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and a pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.

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