Classy Girls Wear Pearls - It's Traditon
Only a Southerner knows how far it is to "over yonder" and how many collard greens, beans or turnips it takes to make a "mess."
Let’s face it. Southern women are different. That’s a fact of life. We are taught to say “yes, ma’am” and “Yes, sir,” listen more than we speak, monogram our towels, bed linens, stationery, or anything else that sits still long enough, write thank you notes, and never leave the house without wearing lipstick and a string of pearls.
Growing up as a Southern woman is a privilege, really. It’s more than where we’re born. It’s an idea and a state of mind that seems to be imparted at birth. It’s more than talking with an accent, saying things like “y’all” and “bless your heart,” knowing how to tell a good story, handle a cast iron skillet, rocking on the front porch, loving fried chicken, Georgia football, bourbon, and country music. In fact, we don’t become Southern; we’re born that way.
It’s knowing everyone’s first name: Darlin’, Dumplin, Shuga, or Honey. It’s having fits of hospitality, loving front porches, magnolias, and Moon Pies, and being able to put on our pearls and serve ice-cold sweet tea at a moment’s notice.
Passing down “Grandmutha’s silva service” along with our pearls to the next generation is like passing down a part of oneself.
We acknowledge the blessings of each passing season and the observances of the graceful small joys that truly make our lives big. The art of Southern entertaining is not that each event needs to be grand but that they are all grandly presented with style and confidence rooted in our heritage of hospitality. A family’s true heritage is the undercurrent of love we share.
Southern women have a way of making us feel loved when we enter their home.
They know instinctively that the best way to console us when we have trouble is with a plate of hot fried chicken and a big ‘ol bowl of potato salad. If we are in a real crisis, they know to add a large banana puddin’.
Furthermore, we can be sure they’ll be on our doorstep with any calamity, with enough casseroles to fill our entire freezer and enough biscuits with country ham and cream gravy to satisfy the heartiest appetites.
Perhaps we’re a bit old-fashioned, but that’s okay. We know who we are and are mighty proud to be called Southern.
Love this!
That was lovely!