IN the obituary of John Boyd, (The Herald, March 7) that most talented Scottish creator of hats, Phil Davison writes about post-war rationing and that “most women were still wearing hand-me-down hats from their mothers”.

My mother would not have worn one of her mother’s hats nor would I have worn one of my mother’s. In Lancashire, after the war, I saw my mother and her friends still wearing turbans and headscarves, as many had worked in factories during the war. A hat with a small brim was often worn on the Sabbath, often sporting a feather . As a teenager in the 1950s I would be taken to the open-air market in St Helens to choose my Easter bonnet.

At 17 I was allowed a rather risque little number that perched atop my head and sported a grosgrain bow. I have a few large-brimmed hats that 
I never wear but like to look at to summon up memories.
Today the headwear of choice is often that delicious little piece of nonsense called a fascinator. Would that I was young enough to be seen wearing one.

Thelma Edwards,
Old Comrades Hall,