Seven Thousand Hats Later

Last month marked 30 years of making hats. That’s a whole lot of hats that I have put out there in the world. I don’t know the exact number, but I do know that I have used over 7000 labels. I’m just going to pause and think about that for a second….To celebrate, I will go back in time and tell you the story of how this life long obsession began. I’m sure I have told some version of this story before, but at my age, repeating stories is just the way it is.

Here’s me back in 1994 trying to sew a straight line. Truly, I remember that this did not come naturally to me. My early hats were seriously wonky, but charming.

My journey into making hats began as a teenager. I had always gravitated to hats. Somewhere in the archives of my parents’ home is a Toronto star newspaper clipping. I was about 13 years old and had ventured to the Vintage clothing show at the CNE (The Toronto fair grounds.) I was trying on an old pillbox hat and a reporter snapped my photo. I suppose that photo was a premonition of things to come. Six years later, I took the train to Montreal to visit my aunt. There, in some boutique in old Montreal, was a handmade pink felt hat. I remember the piercing in my heart. That feeling that I must have this hat at any cost. That cost was $40. Today $40 will buy you 3 items in your grocery cart, but back then, to a 19 year old, it was extravagance incarnate. I went back to my aunt’s home without the hat. I was to return back to Toronto the next day. That night I dreamed about that pink felt hat and when I awoke I asked my aunt to drive me back to the store to buy it before dropping me at the train station. And so began my obsession with hats.

Between the ages of 19-26, I celebrated any occasion, good or bad, with the purchase of a pretty hat. Never once did I consider how the hats came to be in this world. It was on a trip back home to Toronto from Marblehead, MA, that I detoured into a hat shop. It was a tiny little store that no longer exists. There were all these beautiful hats on the wall and 2 sewing machines. That was the V8 moment when I realized that hats were MADE. I pried the milliner/ proprietress of the shop with a 1001 questions. How does one learn to make hats? Where does one learn to make hats? She was very generous with her answers. I walked away with the knowledge that step number one was learning how to sew.

Back in Marblehead, I knocked on a neighbour’s door and begged her to give me sewing lessons. She agreed. I made a vest and after that made a hat from a commercial sewing pattern. Actually, I made a few hundred hats from that one commercial sewing pattern. There was a local upholsterer and I asked her for her fabric scraps. She kept me well supplied. I think the operative word in this tale and pretty much any other endeavour I have undertaken is, “ask”. I was never afraid to ask. Well, I might have been afraid, but I did it anyways. I made a complete pest of myself with endless questions and requests to anyone who I thought could help me achieve my dream. I happily sewed that one hat in every possible colour and print combination. I added a bow. I added a rose. When I had enough hats, a friend made me a hat stand out of two by fours. He drilled holes into the wood and I hand twisted metal coat hangers on which to display the hats. It was the crudest, most dysfunctional, fall prone, hat stand in the world, but it was a hat stand. I was launched. I set up my hat stand at a Tall Ships festival in Marblehead and managed to be a clip on 3 major news networks. Not that fame and fortune followed, but it was a fun way to begin my life as a hatter.

Years later, Tony built me the most beautiful hat booth. Like everything Tony makes it was a work of art. He had a vision of never having to do shows with me, but I never could put the thing together by myself. It was a bit of an albatross. The poor man had to suffer through many craft shows. Eventually, the booth met its maker (who took a sledge hammer to it.)

But when we moved to Lunenburg Tony built me this beautiful studio. My true happy place.

I did eventually progress past that one commercial hat pattern. It was a couple of Martinis with a friend that initially gave me the courage to design my first hat. It was amateurish at best. I remember that I wanted the brim to go out from the crown, but had no idea how to make that happen. What I ended up with was a pillbox hat. There was no need for anyone to know that my first design attempt was a failure. I made many of these hats and sold them all.

As the years went by I bought any hat making book I could get my hands on. I studied vintage hats and took apart hats that I found in thrift shops. Eventually, I improved. I met a seasoned milliner who I also pried with a thousand questions and she graciously answered them all. I never did take a millinery course, or a felting course, or a knitting course. Technically, I could say that I am self taught, but I don’t really see it that way. Behind every book I read, was a craftsperson taking the time to share their knowledge. Every generous friend who helped me gain a new skill was a teacher for me.

I owe the ability to make this kind of sewn straw braid hat to the late and great milliner, Ignatius Creegan. His hats were world famous and if it wasn’t for the anonymity of a key board I never would have had the courage to reach out to him for help. I will never forget how he made me 50 little videos teaching me how to use an antique straw braid sewing machine. To simply say that I am self taught would erase all the other crafts people who said, yes, when I asked for help.

This morning, scrolling through the years on my computer to find photos for this blog, has completely choked me up. These little objects that humans place on their heads to keep warm or stay cool or make a statement or proclaim beauty has been a lifetime for me. The journey continues. The meaning in it is two fold. Firstly, I love beauty.

Beauty is everywhere. It humbles us. It connects us. It inspires us. It is a gift from God, however you define God. Being able to spend my life in service of beauty makes me one of the luckiest humans alive.

Secondly, and equally, is you, all of you, who have been my partners in spreading beauty throughout these last 30 years. It has been an honour to serve you, to keep you warm, to protect you from the sun, to cover your heads during chemo, to be at your celebrations. Hats have connected me to so many amazing people and I know that hats connect people to one another…nice hat….that is music to my ears and the reason I do this. Simple beauty. Simple human connection. Happy Hatting to you all. xoxo Anna