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Hon Heaven Culture: Treasure those Baltimore ladies who call you "hon," hon. Because they're a vanishing treasure characterized by hearts of gold -- and some other traits you can't miss.

June 07, 1996|By Vida Roberts , SUN FASHION EDITOR

Baltimore's Hons are a marvel. Their style may be pink-collar, blue-collar, or housedress, but, hey, who cares? Under those festive, double-knit, stretch tops beat hearts of gold.

Out-of-towners and social climbers may cringe when their sensibilities and space are invaded by an honest-to-goodness Hon.

"What're you having, hon?" at the seafood place. "How you doin,' hon?" at the checkout. "Small bills, hon?" at the bank.

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They should cherish every "hon" tossed their ways because real bingo-playing, dirt-chasing, church-going, wise-cracking hons are a vanishing treasure.

In the interest of hon awareness and preservation of hon style, Denise Whiting, owner of Cafe Hon in Hampden, is staging the third annual Baltimore's Best Hon Contest tomorrow. All in fun, hon.

Whiting is in the vanguard of understanding and capitalizing on hon charm, which can be elusive. The young ones are just beginning to understand that grandma's plastic pop-it beads had a certain panache. Real hons would call them pretty.

Trendy new-age hons have picked up the fashion traditions of Hampden, Highlandtown, Canton, South Baltimore and the farther reaches of Essex, Parkville and Morrell Park.

But big hair alone does not a hon make; a real hon has a generous spirit as big as her beehive. It's her willingness to scrub, hug, scold and help family and her neighbors that singles her out.

A hon's greatest enemy is dirt. That may account for her love affair with polyester. Dry cleaning is still suspect in hon country. If she can't bleach it, starch it or wash it, it ain't clean, hon. That grime fighting extends to the hon at home. Twice yearly, she turns the house out. Murphy's Oil Soap, Spic 'n' Span, and Lysol are applied to walls, woodwork, linoleum, and pine paneling. Some hons dust the front steps daily and scrub them once a week.

That Parkville expatriate John Waters -- may his underwear turn tattletale gray -- made a mockery of Pink Flamingos, Hairspray and Polyester, all the things hons hold dear.

It's a bet no self-respecting hons ever saw a John Waters production, and it's just as well. Hons go movies; they have no use for film.

A hon's greatest joy is socializing, and she dresses for the occasion. She will wear hearts in her ears on Valentine's Day, pumpkin pins on Halloween, flashing lights and glitter on her Christmas sweat-shirt.

For a festive wedding, she may match bag and shoes in pink, ditto for ears, necklace and bracelet.

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