The Stephen Fry Project Vol. 1: The Hat is on the Blocks

I know it's been a while, dear readers.  We've been dealing with some fairly unpleasant stuff having to do with mortgages, work.... you know many of the issues of the day.  We're fairly stable at this point.  Unfortunately, this stability has come at a cost.  Adam's working construction for his dad up in Grand Marais until there's work for him here.  I'm still in Chicago teaching piano.  The situation sucks.  But it's a common way of being at the moment.  I remember every day the number of couples that have been divided by economic circumstances, and worse yet, by war.  We are not alone.  We are doing what we have to do. 

Anyway, happier thoughts.  A couple of months ago, I began a project to make a hat for Stephen Fry.   I've been pretty excited about it for a while, it just took a bit to get going (see above).  It also took a little bit to get his head measurements.  He had them taken by the wardrobe people at QI.  I think this is pretty funny.  Normally people just grab a measuring tape.  No, not Mr. Fry.  He must involve wardrobe people. 

Turns out he has a fairly large head. 

I had to take some time for inspiration as well.  This feels like a fairly high pressure project.  Though I love Stephen Fry's work in many ways (his twitter feed keeps my life interesting), I can't get past the thought that I'm making a hat for Jeeves.  THE Jeeves.  I'm a fan of Wodehouse, and found my way to the television program long after reading the novels.  They made an impression. 

And so, in the middle of all of the above referenced crapulence, I had a dream of Stephen Fry's hat. 

Here it is, on the blocks. 

It's a soft grey beaver felt.  Beaver is the ultimate in millinery felts.  It's extremely soft, with a high nap (the fuzzy bit).  Beaver felt is also the reason that Minnesota was explored.  The European continent had an insatiable appetite for beaver felt top hats. Their appetite was so great that they made beavers virtually extinct on the continent.  This drove trappers to explore the wilds of North America, bringing the voyageurs to Minnesota. 

(Just think, fashion, millinery fashion, brought white men to Minnesota.) 

So I thought that a beaver felt would be appropriate.  

What I've done so far is to take a blank....  a large circle of felt that looks like a bowling ball has been dropped in the middle....  and stuck it under the sink in very hat water.  Eventually the fibers in the felt begin to have elasticity.  Then I stretch the felt over antique wooden hat blocks to make the shape that I want. 

A hat is made of two blocks.  The crown and the brim.  Two separate large pieces of wood.

The fedora crown block that I used is one that I bought from a block-maker in Shakopee, Minnesota.  There are only a handful of block-makers left in the world (I've heard the number 4 thrown around). One of them is 40 minutes from where I grew up. 

I used a large brim block so that I would have lots of options when it came to the width of the brim. 

Don't worry, the hat isn't silver (it just looks like that because it's wet).  Nor will the brim be that wide.  That would be silly.  Very silly. 

Next comes stitching!  Lots and Lots!  (Emily)