When hatpins were more than hatpins

I remember as a child picking up one of my grandmother’s hats and promptly feeling pain in one of my fingers. “Ouch!” While my grandmother examined my hand for a tiny drop of blood to apply a cotton ball with alcohol, I became fascinated with the source of my very minor emergency: A 4-inch-long black hatpin. Why was it there? It didn’t hold anything in place and it wasn’t visible enough to be a decoration. Why have something so sharp so easy to reach? It was then that “Munner” told me that women wore hatpins in their hats for personal...

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