Don your hats and extend your pinkies

It was tea time for the Granville Health System Foundation, as china tea cups and saucers were assembled last Saturday afternoon for the organization’s annual Royal Tea Party and Silent Auction.

Both tea enthusiasts, my sister and I drove the back roads of three counties to attend this festive fundraiser, held at the Granville County Shiners’ Club.

Although my current bank statement prohibited bids during the silent auction segment of the affair, my taste buds and new, expanded hem lines provided ample allowance for savories and sweets, and of course — tea!

Marcia Roots, guest speaker and certified tea specialist, guided this year’s tea partygoers through the four course royal tea, accompanied by the musical backdrop of Nancy Snyder’s String Trio.

And J.F. Webb High School students administered the pour of the day — a hot cinnamon spice tea from John Harney and Sons Fine Teas. This medium-bodied tea, naturally sweetened with three varieties of cinnamon and nutmeg, suggested no need for added sugar.

Perhaps it’s not the syrupy solution most Southerners sip these days, but tea consumption has long been a savored satisfier, dating back over 5,000 years with its origins in Southeast Asia. 

And as Roots explained, tea parties were originally a man’s sport.

Long before bra burners and women’s liberation, wealthy men entertained with tea-cup companionship, consuming this imported elixir among cohorts — not the likes of the gloved and hatted ladies that were seated around the decoratively draped tables at last Saturday’s tea. 

Much has changed since this bygone era.

These days, you’d have to bribe most men — or pull them by the britches — to convince them to attend a tea party.

The once-masculine tea time has transitioned to one of femininity and grace, an elegant art form of etiquette. Tea parties are ceremonies of service and civility. All gathered at the tea table are participants, rhythmically passing portions from one guest to the next. 

Although tea is not a spectator’s sport, one could have easily skirted the sidelines last weekend to view its fashion influence.

Hand-made hats sparkled on the fashion circuit, while store-purchased versions were likewise modeled on the runway during the Parade of Hats contest, another segment of the Royal Tea Party event.

And it was during the Parade of Hats that a “parade of words” was exchanged, severing the tea time civility between my sister and myself.

“I absolutely adore that hat style!” I whispered to my sister, pointing toward a petite-framed woman modeling a tan cloche hat, a single flower capping its small, curved brim. 

“You can’t wear that style,” she insisted. “Your head’s too round. You’d look like a pumpkin.”

And so began the sisterly squabble.

“Go to the devil!” I blurted, jolting the attention of a few ladies seated at our table.

“Shhhhhh!” Sister insisted, while I frowned at her own head, which I likewise considered rather large. I quelled the thoughts with a cucumber sandwich and, with great effort, regained my lady-like manners.

The Parade of Hats winners were shortly announced, followed by final auction bids and closing remarks.

And as the afternoon tea concluded, one of the lone gentlemen attending said, “Perhaps next year we can encourage more men to attend.”

“No, let’s not!” whispered a nearby lady, joined by a rally of female chuckles that culminated in the clinking of a tea toast.