Of Top Hats and Tiaras

Posted bymikecolemanauthorPosted inThought PieceTags:

One New Year’s Eve 30 years ago, Ted and I celebrated extravagantly (and beyond our budget) with a late dinner at the Russian Tea Room in New York City. As midnight approached, top hats were distributed to the gentlemen, tiaras to the ladies, in preparation for the champagne toast when the clock struck twelve.

The hostess looked confused as she approached our table. (We had already noted we were the only male couple in the dining room.)

“Who gets what?” she asked, smiling.

Ted took the top hat, I the tiara.

We made a joke of it, but something rankled. Why did we have to choose? Why here, in what we thought was one of the most sophisticated spaces in New York, did party-favors perpetuate old-school gender norms? Why had no one expected that there might very well be a same-sex couple or two in the room? This was the early 1990s, after all, not 1950.

I hoped that some of the straight couples near our table might switch their headgear in solidarity with us, but they didn’t. Still, it seemed that people got a kick out of our choice. I didn’t sense any meanness or disgust as they raised their glasses to us.

We raised ours right back.

We had a good time that night, but looking back on the experience, I marvel at how much has changed in 30 years. Maybe they’re still handing out top hats and tiaras at the Russian Tea Room on New Year’s Eve, but I’d be willing to bet there are same-sex couples in the room who opt for two tiaras, or two top hats … or nothing at all.

This morning on Facebook, a friend posted that famous quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson: “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”

Maybe it’s too weighty a topic to fit my story of New Year’s Eve at the Russian Tea Room

Or maybe it does.

Truth is told in small moments, small gestures.

And I think many among us still expect people to be one or the other: male or female, beau or belle. And woe to those who try to blur the distinctions.

Our culture’s current debate over transgender rights certainly reflects that dated thinking.

My hope for this New Year is that more of us can move past it. More of us can grant a little more space to those who just want to be themselves.

Happy 2024, everyone.

Note: The photo is from one of Ted’s and my Halloween parties in Atlanta in the late 1990s. I believe the date on this one is 1999. It was taken by friend and colleague Sherry Roberts. And yes, there is a small tiara in that blond/blonde (there we go again with the gender distinctions!) wig I’m wearing.

10 thoughts on “Of Top Hats and Tiaras”

  1. Hi, Mike, Love the picture of you and Ted and also the story about your New Year’s eve experience in New York. I think some progress has been made since those days, but as you note in your wish for the new year, we have a ways to go! Hope all is well there. We look forward to seeing you next week! Love, Nancy

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    1. Thanks, Chester. It was great to see you two at Steve’s, too! Really good to catch up with you. We enjoyed the chat with Pamela, too. Thanks for the kind words about my sister. Let’s plan dinner at our place when we return from CA. Mike

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  4. Dear Mike,

    Belated thanks for your thoughtful New Year’s reflection. Very nicely done.

    Martin Martin C. Lehfeldt Former President, Southeastern Council of Foundations Writer and speaker in the not-for-profit sector

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  6. Mike, I had a tophats and tiaras moment myself. When I was in my mid 30s and still married, my husband Sam and I went out on New Year’s Eve for dinner, drinks, and dancing, and I learned late in the day that a friend of his wanted to join us as his date had fallen through. I didn’t know him well, but what the heck. Just before midnight, the wait staff began to circulate among the tables with top hats and tiaras for the guests. At our table, the young woman serving us asked me to pick one, and I chose the more substantial and much, much more attractive top hat, which she promptly placed on my head. The guys each chose a hat, and my husband asked me why I did not take a tiara. I said I just felt like the hat and it was better looking. The friend then said, with acid drippling in his voice, “Well, he said you always want to be the man.” In that moment and at that place, I was speechless, and the evening was ruined. Today, I look back and am so proud of myself for choosing what I wanted without any thought of what I should do! The memory also reassures me that I was, in fact, in the wrong place and was right to change my life.

    Thanks for sharing all your stories. I love them.

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  7. Quite a story, Kathryn. Thanks for sharing. Scrims are lifted and our lives can pivot at just such small but crucial moments as the one you’ve described. Good for you for choosing the hat! And for being brave enough to make changes in your life. We love and respect you so much. Mike

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