“Dainty” is probably the least likely adjective that comes to mind when people talk about me, with “ladylike”, “sophisticated” and “feminine” following close behind. So why is it that in middle age, I have become so fascinated by anything that has to do with the epitome of sophisticated, ladylike customs,  known as a “Formal English Afternoon Tea”?  If you knew me well, you would be as perplexed about this as I am because I am known to pride myself on being rather non-traditional.  For years I was a real minimalist. For example, my decorating style was strictly “modern”. While my friends were swooning over Ethan Allen and French Country, I preferred white laminated cabinets and clean glass and chrome accessory pieces. My favorite furniture store was IKEA, and I scorned any knickknack or chachka that would get in the way of sleek, clean lines and give me one more thing to dust in the process. One would never find anything as sweet as a Precious Moments figurine on my shelves and the closest my table ever got to fine china was plain white Corelle.                                       

     This all changed when my daughter became engaged and it fell upon me to give her a bridal shower.  In search of a theme, I remembered what fun we had on an outing to Manhattan where the two of us had enjoyed a formal “tea” at the historic Hotel Pierre overlooking Central Park. In this elegant, but prim and proper setting, we had enjoyed pretending to be society ladies, lifting our tea cups with our pinkies in the air while a tuxedo clad waiter served us petite sandwiches. When I saw that one of our local historic restaurants offered a bridal shower package which included a “Victorian Tea”, I made the arrangements. I was willing to splurge for this treat but when it came to picking the centerpieces, I balked at the price. I decided to make my own. I figured I would go to a few thrift shops; pick up enough used teapots for each table (I didn’t own any pots myself); fill them with multi-colored roses bought in bulk from Costco; and that would be that. Boy, did I miscalculate … especially on the “that would be that” part! Somewhere during my hunt through second hand shops, I totally fell in love with everything “tea”.

     The centerpieces were a big hit and the shower was a huge success. Afterwards, though, I missed my jaunts to look for teapots. Well, I imagine you can guess the rest. Since then I have gone on to accumulate a collection of over 50 vintage Sadler English teapots. In addition I have acquired too many dainty bone china tea cups to count; tea cozies and tea strainers; vintage tablecloths; and of course, tins and tins of all varieties of tea.The kitchen walls in my little cottage are laden with a display of tea paraphernalia, in spite of the fact that each little treasure requires frequent dusting.  Whenever I travel, I make a point of visiting the nearest tea room. I can proudly brag that I have “been to tea” in many fancy places from Savanna, Georgia to Bath, England, and I have gleefully held my pinky in the air throughout.  I have perfected a recipe for delicious orange cranberry scones and I’ve even learned how to blend a pretty good substitute for English Clotted Cream, both of which I serve frequently to everyone who visits.

     I have no idea why this passion, which would have once been so completely out of character, has grabbed hold of me. Is it the desire to have some lovely things to pass on to my daughter? Is it just a rather O.C.D. me in search of a hobby? Is it an aging woman finally beginning to appreciate everything “old”? Is it a non-conformist yearning for some tradition? Who knows? All I do know is that sipping tea which has been poured from a lovely bone china teapot into a dainty cup, with a three tiered plate of savory delights close by, lifts my spirits.  The neat part about it is that I never cease to surprise myself. It gives me a giggle thinking that at 61, I am still wondering what I will find out about myself when I finally grow up.

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