I Went to Night School for the Blues

Cause that's what this hat has been giving me, the blues. While the hat itself came together beautifully, I'm convinced the brim hates my face. It certainly hates my iron and my sewing machine.

Now, I'm not trying to discourage anyone. It's actually a pretty cool pattern. However, it, like most vintage patterns prior to the 60's, presumes that the purchaser could sew an entire lady's wardrobe with nothing more than a hand needle, a couple feed sacks and some buckram. It basically says, look, heifer, we gave you the damned pieces so figure it out your own damned self.

So far, I've figured out that the brim, at least the buckram part of it, really should be narrower. I took 3/8 off the outer edge, as instructed but I also ended up taking at least half an inch off the inner edge as well. Then I had to steam and press up a lip onto which I'll be sewing the hat.

Those yellow bits in the pictures are the pins holding together for a test fit. The brim isn't quite right but a couple go rounds with steam after everything is sewn together will fix that.

So here's the question of the day.

Can I wear hats? Or does my mama lie?

On second thought, it might be better if you don't answer that.

I keep a stuff upper lip

This is buckram.

Once upon a time, this stuff was everywhere. All different kinds, too. Apparently, now there are only four, used mostly by milliners to make vintage style hats and Civil War era bonnets. It's the stuff that will be making the brim of my cloche hat nice and stiff.

Can you get high on Elmer's Glue fumes? Not that I'm trying or anything

The nice thing about buckram is that it's essentially a glue stiffened fabric. You can use a hot iron to and bend it the way you want and steam to get your fabric to stick to it.

But all the steam makes for waves of Elmer's glue sent all up in your face. I feel like I'm in the third grade again, spreading glue on my hands and waiting for it to dry why I pretended to care about my times tables.

What?

You didn't spread a thin layer on your palm so you could peel it off, wave it in a boy's face and pretend it was dead skin?

I'll shut up now.

Look at the pretty hat in progress (and stop staring at me. The third grade was a confusing time in my life.)