A Surry with the Fringe on Top

What's cuter than a group of drunk, middle-aged women in obnoxious Easter Bonnets? Nothing!


The day before Easter found some of the most fun wimmens in Natchez at their annual Easter Bonnet Parade, organized by the ever indefagitable Kathy Sizemore, partier extraordinnaire. It was a whirlwind trip around town in two buggies with two tired, irritated horses that wanted nothing more than to go back to the barn.

But there were songs to be sung, milk punches to be drunk, and merriment to be had!

This was Elodie's first year in the parade, and she did not understand the importance of sporting a decadently flambouyant bonnet. Nevertheless, she showed up with a rather plain-Jane bonnet, and took photos of the others.

The parade started out at City Park on Main Street when all 18 wimmins, primed with milk punch, started singing the Easter Bonnet Song, albeit to a rather low key begun by Anna Watts, who might want to think about giving up the late nights and bourbon. Ahem.

Even though they each had a copy of the lyrics, they all forgot the tune in the final refrain, but were happy to fill in their own, which made for a pretty awful rendition.

Everyone came out on the street to see the group of middle-aged, middle-spread women who thought they looked, um, hot, and who were trying to convince themselves that black is a good color for Easter. The mustaches and sweat beads battled for the strategic positions of their upper lips.

At Andrew's Bar and at Biscuits and Blues, people swarmed out onto the sidewalk to see the colorful caravan. When they arrived at The Corner Bar, however, all the doors were closed.

"They're closed!" someone said.

"No, they're not," replied another. "I see people at the bar."

Soon the door was opened and someone who shall remain nameless, (cough! Meredith) yelled, "Let your people go!" before realizing that the man standing in the doorway was African-American.

The parade ended at Bowie's Tavern where the bartender awaited behind a line of milk punches, shaking her head and mumbling, "I shoulda made milquetoast for this bunch of elderly idiots."

The Kiss-lookalike band waiting to play music that evening kindly posed with the ladies, who still thought they looked hot.

At any rate, a grand time was had by all (except the horses). No matter. What happens behind the horse's ass stays behind the horse's ass. Right, girls?

Happy Easter, everyone!

*photos by Elodie Pritchartt