In the summer of ‘69, I wore a flower in my hair just like in the Scott McKenzie song.

San Francisco’s Haight-Asbury district buzzed with hippie energy as our teen tour bus made its way down the West Coast. The gentle melody of “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)” ran through my mind, connecting me to the spirit of peace and love.

My flower from that day wilted, but the memory has lingered, and, years later, during a trip to Hawaii, I discovered the magic of hair flowers. Native women wore fresh flowers in their hair. A hibiscus or plumeria behind the left ear signaled that a woman was married or unavailable; behind her right ear meant that she was single and possibly looking for love. The gift stores sold fabric hair flowers to tourists like me.

My new accessories became part of my anti-dowdiness regimen. They balanced out my face, which had started to sag with age. I called my new look a ‘pseudo facelift.’

When I first started wearing hair flowers, I had no idea they would serve any purpose beyond being purely decorative. Little did I know they’d provide the kind of conversational boost I needed most as a new widow to take the sting away from days filled with people making sad faces at me and asking how I felt.

One day, a young woman at the food co-op asked about my hair flower.

“Is that a real tiger lily?” she asked.

“No, it’s fabric,” I said. “It will live forever.”

She flashed me a contagious smile. “I like that.”

Her grin got me thinking. “You, too, can be a member of The Sisterhood of Flowers in Our Hair,” I quipped.

“Is that a real thing?” she asked.

“No,” I told her. “But it should be.”

Indeed, there is an actual organization for older women – the Red Hat Society – that operates with much the same spirit as my habit of wearing flowers in my hair. It gives women an opportunity to feel less invisible and to connect with each other in a spirit of fun.

Older women are not alone in this need for affirmation from the outside world. Late in life, my father-in-law started wearing World War II caps and sweatshirts. His face lit up whenever people thanked him for his service.

At the time, I found his outward display of patriotism a little sad and wondered if he wasn’t trying to fill some inner void. Why did he need so much attention? Wasn’t vanity a quality to be avoided at all costs?

Certainly, the Puritans thought so. The General Court in Plymouth even outlawed “immodest fashions” such as silver, gold and lace. I, for one, am glad times have changed. The colorful swirl of modernity has helped break down class and gender barriers. Isn’t it progress that, these days, high fashion isn’t just for the wealthy and that everyone can wear pink (and lavender, too)?

Over the years, I’ve also had a change of heart about my father-in-law’s display of red, white and blue. No longer do I see his vanity as a form of mooching off the good will of others. Instead, dressing with flair can be a great way to brighten up the lives of others.

When Fred was sick, my surrogate sister Sandy came shopping with me. I encouraged her to look for fun, bright-colored shirts. She returned with an eye-catching watermelon print. Fred’s shirts never failed to make his aides smile. They got as much of a boost from seeing his shirt as he did from their compliments.

Every cool item we wear is a story waiting to be told. A woman with blue artsy eyeglasses told me it took her three trips to the store before she decided to splurge on the expensive frames. An Instacart driver with fluorescent gold sneakers gets compliments wherever he goes. A guy friend bought himself a cool cap to lift his spirits after a romantic breakup.

Although some critics argue that Scott McKenzie’s song (written by John Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas) is dated, I disagree. If there’s one thing the world needs now it’s for people to talk to each other. I plan to wear flowers in my hair and other cool accessories until the day I die. And I hope to inspire you to do the same.

Joan Axelrod-Contrada is a writer who lives in Florence. Reach her at joanaxelrodcontrada@gmail.com

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