A Southern Belle Primer

I have come across the most charming little book: A Southern Belle Primer. I don't know exactly how I have missed this gem all these years, because when I posted a picture of it on Instagram a couple of weeks ago, dozens of you commented that you grew up with this as a manual for good living and expressed shock that I had not know about it before. It was published in 1991, so I admit I am extremely late to the game. Shame on you good Southern folk for not bringing it to my attention sooner! How tacky (wink).

Inside the pages, there is much to do about tomato aspic (which I adamantly refuse to try), Hellman's mayonnaise (Hellman's will freeze over before I eat anything but Duke's), and repeated extolling of the Junior League (of which I am a dropout). That being said, a good Southern belle is her own unique character who is not afraid to stand out, and I still found that the majority of the topics presented rang true to me in a very delightful Southern way.

Chapter One is entitled "Who Are Your People?" so right away I knew I had come to the right source. I haven't heard that phrase (used sincerely, anyway) since my Mimi, my mom's mom, passed away. It was her opening sentiment every time she met a friend of mine with whom she was unfamiliar. She needed to know immediately if this girl's parents were the Walkers from the Baptist church or the Walkers from the Methodist church and if her granddaddy was the Walker who once owned a store downtown? As the book so accurately states, "Southerners never tire of talking about bloodlines. Everyone is questioned. No one is exempt."

Another very important part of Southern belle lore that resonated with me is this: "In the South, a girl's first can of hairspray is more important than her first bra." Amen to that, sister. I was taught the importance of good, big hair in my early youth when my mama and I would get out the Dippity Do hair gel and a container full of pink sponge rollers, listen to "Solid Gold Saturday Night" on the radio and roll my hair for church the next morning. We did this every Saturday night without question or complaint, because it is the price you pay for curled, coiffed, teased glory. The author has a theory that when Southern women stopped wearing hoop skirts, big hair became another way to make women's waists appear smaller. I don't know exactly how the evolution of big Southern hair came to be, but I can tell you I, along with scores of other Aqua-Netted females, just feel prettier when my hair is living its biggest life.

Amen!

As a girl who started ballet and tap lessons at the ripe old age of two, I was also particularly taken with the part about dance classes. You see, according to the Southern Belle Primer, ballet and tap classes teach young belles-to-be about charm and "is where they first learn to sparkle." I would also add it is where I developed my love of costumes and sequins; my desire to take dance in the first place came when toddler Susie saw a picture of a tutu-clad ballerina in a magazine. I took that picture right over to my granddaddy and pointed to that beautifully costumed prima donna and let him know, "I want to do this." Granddaddys being granddaddys, he had my mama enroll me in classes ASAP...never mind the fact that I wasn't yet steady enough on my feet to walk in a pair of baby tap shoes. My mother would have to carry me across the studio floor and deposit me on my mark, and let the dance class begin. With the exception of one rebellious year when I took a hiatus, I was in dance class from the age of two until I left for college. I like to think I learned to sparkle, all right. I also learned that even if you aren't sure exactly what your next steps are supposed to be, you can usually get by with a wink and a smile.

Dance recital pictures, 1983 and 1984. How could anyone not want to wear these costumes?

As we continue our discussion, I would be remiss not to also mention the Southern institution that is chicken salad (all that talk of dancing will work up an appetite, y'all). My mama and I have a list of places where we will eat the chicken salad and where we will not; there is nothing more disappointing than ordering this delicious creation and receiving an unworthy serving. I don't know what the protocol for chicken salad is in the rest of the world, but down here where I live, do not put dark meat in the chicken salad. It's considered high treason, and it will have women whispering behind your back and shunning your dish at potlucks for the rest of your days. When chicken salad is good, it is heavenly. When chicken salad is bad, it must be what's it like to be a Yankee. 

No Southern Belle Primer would be complete with covering essential topics like silver, beauty pageants, the War, and fittingly saved for last: funerals (and their accompanying casseroles). I chose the same silver pattern as my mother before me (Strasbourg), so imagine how thrilled I was to discover I was marrying a man whose mother's silver was Strasbourg as well! That just sets a girl up for a lifetime of fabulous entertaining. I enjoyed my fair share of beauty pageants (and tiaras, the most important part) during my younger days, and as far as "the War" goes, I married a member of the Kappa Alpha Order, which is essentially the college fraternity equivalent of war reenactors (Robert E. Lee is listed as the order's spiritual founder, after all). My mom is currently in charge of the bereavement committee at the Methodist church in her hometown, and she is proudly passing on the funeral hospitality that was near perfected during her time as a Baptist. There is rarely a week that goes by that we don't discuss funeral food or the plans to feed a family after a church member has passed. I've officially reached the age where any time I see an attractive black dress, I think, "I should probably buy that in case I need it for a funeral." Death is part of a Southerner's way of life, I suppose.

A friend has let me know there is an updated version of the Southern Belle Primer that I simply must read. She said it contains some new insights about Southern propriety and protocol, but assured me that is still contains the Twelve Patterns of the Silver Zodiac just like the original. I'm sure I will give the newer version a read at some point, but to be honest, I don't feel that there's a need to rush. Southern belles don't change, they adapt; but the truth of the matter is that, just like patent leather and seersucker, deviled egg plates and tomato sandwiches, belles are a timeless classic.

It's not so much a title as it is a badge of honor.