I’ve previously shared the story about my grandmother’s brown pocketbook, but I didn’t mention there was something inside the stylish bag that always repulsed me — the universally hideous rain bonnet.

For those of you who never had a proper grandmother, or lived somewhere in the desert, the rain bonnet was a small, plastic scarf which folded accordion-style into a tiny packet. Some people referred to the pliable cap as a rain “hood,” but we thought that sounded a bit too urban and stuck with the more genteel, “bonnet.”

Ladies of that time had an assortment of the plastic head covers hidden in every drawer, pocketbook and the car’s glove box.  The rain bonnets looked hilarious, but now that I think about it, were a practical accessory—especially on the days when you had your hair “done” at Bee Bee’s Beauty Parlor. Cousin Rosie Belle from Robertsdale’s mother Aunt Flora Gayle would say, “I didn’t pay Doris Rae $7.35 to have her work destroyed by rain!”

Her round mound of hair had to last from Eastern Star on Saturday night through Sunday morning services and then again to the Thursday Garden Club luncheon. And I double-dog swear on a stack of Southern Living magazines that I knew of at least two ladies who would wrap their “do” in toilet paper at night and sleep on silk pillows in order to keep their stiff stack of curls perfectly in place all week. Let’s see Charmin start advertising that.

As Suzanne Sugarbaker of Designing Women fame once said to her charming and frisky beau, “Keep your hands to yourself, I don’t want to mess up my hair.”

Don’t be so shocked. Who amongst us hasn’t at least a few times thought of our hair first?

Years ago, on a sweltering summer morning, my grandmother and I were caught beneath a roadside fruit stand during a sudden downpour. She offered me a rain bonnet of my own (how clever to have a spare), but I almost fainted with teenaged embarrassment at the thought of putting one of those things on my head! It didn’t matter that I didn’t even know anyone in Hartselle other than relatives, and they didn’t care what I had on my head. But what if another unknown teenager happened to drive by and catch a glimpse of me with plastic stuck to my head? The universe would surely have ended.

Moments later, grandmother looked beautifully coiffed behind the giant Buick’s steering wheel, while I sat next to her on the sprawling bench seat looking like a drowned rat.

Although I adore and regularly use some vintage items like real cotton monogrammed handkerchiefs and sweater clips, I have to draw the line at the rain bonnet. Thank goodness I was born in a time where I have access to modern gadgets so I can “do” my hair on a moments notice. But even though hot rollers are the best invention since sliced bread, there still isn’t anything quite as compact and efficient to shield our hair from inclement weather as the rain bonnet.

Once again proving they truly were the greatest generation.

 Leslie Anne Harrison also writes the blog Fairhope Supply Co. www.fairhopesupply.com