Red

 

Look into my clothing closet. You would say it is bereft of red. There is only one red silk satiny blouse with black Chinese calligraphy patterned all over. The sight of the blouse brings a smile to my face and sometimes even laughter. You see, I wore that blouse to my bridge game in Great Neck. My partner was this handsome Great Neck doctor who was well known for his sense of humor. He looked at me across the table and pointed to my right arm and in a serious tone said, “Ethyl, that word is spelled wrong!” He got a round of laughter from all at the table, knowing he could read English and maybe some Hebrew, but definitely, not Chinese. I now think of that red blouse as my Ha, Ha blouse.

Last Sunday I had the privilege of seeing the Edward Hopper exhibit at the Whitney Museum. Standing in front of his painting Drug Store, was a young woman clad in a bright red woolen dress. The soft red woolen dress had four covered buttons.  She stood out from the surrounding viewers, all wearing their winter blacks, browns, dark blues, many still bundled up for the rainy cold. The woman in red, carried a black leather shoulder bag and matching stylish black pumps. The red of her dress was similar to the hanging apothecary bottle in Silbers Pharmacy in Hopper’s Drug Store. 

I strolled into the next room and sat down in front of one of my favorite Hopper’s Sunday Morning. The row of tenement houses in this scene are painted green on the bottom floor and red on the upper level. The red in this painting was not the bright red of the woman’s dress. The red was muted, leaning toward terra cotta.  I have given my daughter one of my paintings that they call “Grandma’s Hopper. It might be called Monday Morning, since the woman in my painting is about to enter a store, unlikely to be open on Sunday morning. Standing in front of Sunday Morning was the woman in red. Strange, she no longer had a shoulder bag, but her bag was held with a small strap handle. When she turned around, I saw the front of her red woolen dress had two rows of shiny metallic gold buttons. Same color dress, same fabric, but clearly, a different dress, a different woman. 

Did the two women know each other? Did they phone each other that morning and say, ”Let’s wear your reds.” No, they each left with different partners. The room could never be dull with an exquisite display of Hoppers, but the room lost some of its luster when the women in red left. Why didn’t I wear my red satiny silk Ha Ha blouse that day??

Ethyl H.