The Hat: Prologue.
Jord lost his hat on the Easterville Highway. The sasquatch is going to be well outfitted come the end of this winter. (RIP Steve's jacket) So off to Mitchell Fabric's we went and bought some tweed and buckram. A deer-stalking we will go, my dear Watson.
The Hat: Take One.
Found a pattern on the Internet for a deer-stalking hat. The reviews said it fit small, though, as in, "It fit my dog." Decided, seeing as the Dunnigan's have mammoth noggins, that I'd have to make my own. Based it off of dad's felt and fur hat.
The pattern was slightly asymmetrical. I thought the seam allowances would hide that. Oh, ignorance. Oh, sloth.
Steve was on fabric-cutting detail as I basted bits together. Metamorphosis from bullet-shaped pieces of fabric to elfish cap to the elementary version of Sherlock's chapeau. Thought I'd finish this in a night, get it to Jord on time for his birthday. Hah.
The Hat: Take Two.
Put the lining, flaps and outside together, turned inside out and sewed around. 2 broken sewing machine needles resulted in what Steve called a mumu (moomoo?) hat. I got rather pissed off at him for that. Dad tried it on and said, "That's a lot of hat." Which made me realize that I had indeed created a mumu hat. Quit for the night.
The Hat: Take Three.
Take Three has involved chopping an inch off the base. Things are fitting much nicer. I am not pissed off at anyone, anymore. Just swearing at the machine. 2 more broken sewing machine needles. And the ear flaps and brims never seem quite straight. Mom is giggling and advising me to stop for the night.
Jord should get this birthday hat in time for the next snow. Then he can skulk around the city in the style he favours once more.
The Hat: Take Four.
Hand-sewed to finish the job. Said screw you to redoing the whole thing. Instead, picked out select seams, used some whip stitch, admired how tweed is such a camouflaging fabric when it comes to hiding stitches. Had a heck of a time deciding what was front and what was back. Consulted husband and father. Sealed the deal with a personalized monogram in orange in the interior.
Jord lost his hat on the Easterville Highway. The sasquatch is going to be well outfitted come the end of this winter. (RIP Steve's jacket) So off to Mitchell Fabric's we went and bought some tweed and buckram. A deer-stalking we will go, my dear Watson.
The Hat: Take One.
Found a pattern on the Internet for a deer-stalking hat. The reviews said it fit small, though, as in, "It fit my dog." Decided, seeing as the Dunnigan's have mammoth noggins, that I'd have to make my own. Based it off of dad's felt and fur hat.
The pattern was slightly asymmetrical. I thought the seam allowances would hide that. Oh, ignorance. Oh, sloth.
The Hat: Take Two.
Put the lining, flaps and outside together, turned inside out and sewed around. 2 broken sewing machine needles resulted in what Steve called a mumu (moomoo?) hat. I got rather pissed off at him for that. Dad tried it on and said, "That's a lot of hat." Which made me realize that I had indeed created a mumu hat. Quit for the night.
The Hat: Take Three.
Take Three has involved chopping an inch off the base. Things are fitting much nicer. I am not pissed off at anyone, anymore. Just swearing at the machine. 2 more broken sewing machine needles. And the ear flaps and brims never seem quite straight. Mom is giggling and advising me to stop for the night.
Jord should get this birthday hat in time for the next snow. Then he can skulk around the city in the style he favours once more.
The Hat: Take Four.
Hand-sewed to finish the job. Said screw you to redoing the whole thing. Instead, picked out select seams, used some whip stitch, admired how tweed is such a camouflaging fabric when it comes to hiding stitches. Had a heck of a time deciding what was front and what was back. Consulted husband and father. Sealed the deal with a personalized monogram in orange in the interior.
This photo makes the hat look great. Which it is (up-talk). Hat-making is not easy. But not impossible, either. I was not a hat-maker in a previous life. Maybe, though, I was a young apprentice who got knocked off before I truly began to shine. Because I was having a love affair with the hat-maker's daughter, or wife. But the hat maker was an old and cruel man that mistreated everyone in his life and now no one is happy.
I have lots of tweed left. 2 different fabrics, in fact. Deer-stalker 2 in the future? The thing is, if there's no deadline, it doesn't seem to get done (hello, quilt). Maybe I need a sewing buddy.
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