For whatever reason, I have found that older women and the color purple just seem to go together.
Perhaps it's because purple has long been associated with royalty and goddesses. Perhaps we're trying to reconnect with our inner goddess. Or perhaps it's because of the Red Hat Society and that now infamous poem of "When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me..."
Whatever the reason, I find it comforting to know that women of all ages have a fondness for purple. I've loved purple since I was a kid. My favorite colors were blues and purples, perhaps some greens. Always the deep rich warm colors, not the pastelly-girly stuff, but the serious stronger colors. It is only now, that I have reached a certain age point and comfort in my career, do I really reach for the purple in my clothes. I have always tried to dress for comfort, even when working under strict dress codes, but my current job allows for a bit more "laxness" in clothing choices, so my most favorite purple shoes ever surround my feet in cozy, sqooshy, warm comfort on a chilly day.
You see, today I have on my F-Ughs (Fake Ughs) that I bought yesterday; they are uber cool because they are purple. And a pretty purple I might add. All the older women in my office noticed them right away and talked about the color, asked if they were comfy and where I got them. The guys all asked "are those slippers?". No boys, they are not slippers. They are acceptable footwear - if you stretch the dress code hard enough.
They make me smile, and right now that's a good thing. My test results came back fine, but unfortunately for my dear friend the news got worse, rather than staying stable or getting better. In a show of support - she is family to us after all - my dear hubby shaved his head and got his one-and-only tattoo. On the back of his head. Apparently one of the toughest spots to get one. The big guy now sports a bald head, a goatee, and a pretty pink ribbon tattoo with her initials on the back of his head and I couldn't be prouder of him. And no, I do not mind that he has another woman's initials on the back of his head; even though for totally unselfish reasons I wish they were mine instead of hers, so I could tackle the hardship of chemo on her behalf and have her be left healthy and whole.