If the hat fits…

Personal Essays
Written By Salma Ali

In a Behida Dolić hat, NY Proton Center, last day radiation

This too has passed…

The traditional way to celebrate the end of a cancer treatment is to ring a bell (which I did on my 25th day of proton radiation), but my way of celebrating— pretty much anything—is by experiencing a story. And I knew exactly whose story I wanted to learn more about to mark the end of radiation treatment—a resilient and passionate Bosnian milliner, and breast cancer survivor, with a hat shop in Hudson, NY (who I first learned about, like most inspiring things on this journey, from the incredible Suleika Jaouad).

I walked into Behida Dolić’s eponymous shop, not quite believing I was standing amidst her exquisite hand-sculpted hats, approached her and said with a wide smile, “I’ve been wanting to meet you ever since I learned about you.” We hugged even before we said hello, and started sharing our stories immediately.

 Behida grew up in a southern Bosnian village, and came to the U.S. in 1998, after fleeing the Balkan War. She lived in San Francisco where she studied art, and soon discovered her love for millinery. About 13 years ago, she packed up her car with a dozen handmade hats, 100-year old molds, hat trims and feathers, and her unquenchable dream to set up a hat shop, and drove cross-country to Hudson, NY.

 

Behida shared with me that she too had aggressive breast cancer a few years ago. She was pregnant at the time, and would have to let her baby go in order to survive. Just a few years earlier she had lost her first baby tragically; I didn’t have the courage to ask how.

How do people survive such heartbreak, let alone create something beautiful out of it?

But here she was with her newborn baby boy with the most luminous eyes and scrumptious toes swaddled on her chest, in her light dappled shop, brimming with artfully arranged flowers and decorated with her soulful paintings, which she has built one hat at a time. 

Modeling Behida’s fashions! Here’s the video.

But not just hats. While sitting in the infusion chair receiving her chemotherapy, Behida told me that she decided to launch a fashion line. Yes! She designs a small collection of pants, dresses, jumpsuits, and tops with exquisite Italian linens and cashmere tailored in NYC.  Her jumpsuit is named ‘Susu’ after her dear friend Suleika.

I spent two hours trying on hats and outfits, walking down the aisle and doing a twirl by the front window’s light, as I had seen others do on Behida’s Instagram. I felt 10 feet tall and was beaming with confidence. No doubt her clothes and hats are infused with her strength and spirit.

Some people just seem to be made of a different stuff—more resilient, more ambitious, more willing, more able. But Behida, and Suleika, would likely disagree. They would likely say that we all have that ‘stuff’ in us—if we only dare to accept our life circumstances, and live and create, and dance anyway.

By chance the day I visited Behida, she mentioned that Suleika’s mom, artist Anne Francey, had her exhibit opening at a gallery just down the street. It was such a pleasure to meet Anne, see her beautiful artwork, and give her a hug and tell her how much her daughter inspires me and how I pray for Suleika in my every prayer.

The past couple of weeks, despite my exhaustion, I’ve been able to take a break from doctors and hospitals and travel abroad with Arif to rest and recharge. In a couple of weeks, I’ll start my next treatment, hormone therapy, which to be honest is what I’ve been most nervous about, as it will last five, maybe 10 years, and the side effects are supposed to be awful.

But I’m trying to take a page out of Suleika’s and Behida’s book (in fact, she’s working on her memoir!), and focus on today—taking a walk with a dear friend in Mount Street Gardens in London—and on what I have control over—feeling joyful for this unique opportunity to travel—and not let the ‘what if’s’, of which there are many, hijack these glorious days in some of my most favorite cities.

With all my love,

Salma

 

PS: So many of you shared songs, even playlists, for me to play during radiation, based on my last newsletter “My soundtrack for proton radiation”—thank you! You were with me in song as I played your suggestions, “Let it be”, “Hallelujah”, “Survior”, “Get Free”, “Brand New Day”, and more. I listened to Jon Batiste’s “Butterfly” (there are butterflies all over the proton center walls), and on my last day I played the Coke Studio version of “Tu Jhoom” (You dance), which a friend introduced me to at the start of this journey—there’s nothing in your control, understand this my heart. You dance, dance, dance.

The songs and playlists are still coming in; I listen to them as I stretch and walk. I just received a playlist from a dear high school friend including Nappy Roots “Good Day”, and from my music aficionado cousin, with Gloria Gaynor’s “I will survive.” I’m all out dancing to it right now!! Join me! 💃🏽


So if the hat fits, read under it’s shade in a glorious garden…Place des Vosges, Paris

or take it for a stroll…Parque de El Retiro, Madrid

Onward! (Paris)

“I believe that sometimes we must write our story first, long before we get to live it. Through all the years, my purpose has always been: Do whatever it takes to make a life for yourself in which you can be creative every single day. Once that deep yearning inside of you is fulfilled, it will always make your heart well up and overflow with the deepest of contentment.

— Behida Dolić, on Instagram”
— Quote Source
 
Salma Ali
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