I’ve become a hatter in my spare time. A Green Hatter. A Sophia-Hatter. Not really a Mad Hatter since I don’t use mercury in any of my hats as they did in 19th century hat making. People who wear my hats don’t suffer from mercury poisoning and wide mood swings as they did back then. At least, not that I know of.
Like quilters who make quilts from bits and pieces, I’m a hatter who does the same thing. All of my hand-stitched hats are made from recycled wool (which I wash in really really hot water hoping to “felt” it up.) Most are “blinged up” with beads or buttons for women, some for children and a few for men. I love hearing friends say, "Oh, that's my sweater!"
Being a natural-born saver I have all of my mother’s old buttons. The other day, I sewed a molded metal button onto the side of a Sophia-hat and I remembered my mother’s grey coat. I was a little thing—maybe about three or four--when they left me with my aunt Edna for a whole week so they could get some kind of get-away. I never asked where they went because Edna kept distracting me with stories and games and tea parties and embroidery with my looong pink stitches. One day I sadly looked up from whatever Edna-game we were playing and started to cry. She asked what was the matter and I said, “I don’t remember what mommy looks like. I can see her in her grey coat but I can’t see her in her dress.” I was beginning to forget her face.
Her pewter button brought back her face, her coat and Edna all in one montage.
Why would Sophia like my hats? Well, they’re environmentally PC. Everything is recycled. I don’t even use electricity from my sewing machine and one of my male friends quipped: You probably use your grandmother’s needle”
Another friend said, "Let's see. They are Sophia Hats because you wear them on your head. She's there as much as she is in your heart." Works for me.
I was thinking of Sophia last night as I stitched a tiny row of quartz pieces onto a row of white knitting. Sophia, I decided, lives in little things—like quartz beads, ants, baby birds, flower buds—as much as she lives in the elephantine things of our world. That’s maybe why she’s so often overlooked.
As I stitch, I imagine who might wear one of my “mad” hats. Perhaps, like me, she’s lost her hair several times thanks to chemo. Or she just likes to keep her head warm. Or she wants something unique. Sophia Hats are each, like us, one of a kind. Ah, there’s the rub. How do you order a hat when you don’t know what it looks like. Or if it would fit. Or if you’d think your friends would like it. I’m not sure you can.
But, on occasion, I have “hat parties.” Friends. A mirror. We all vote on which looks best. It’s truly a mad concept, this “non marketing” word of mouth marketing.
My husband made “a 15 hat” hat stand firmly set into a Christmas tree stand and I haul it to flea markets or yard sales or farmers markets.
But mostly I just stitch. And wonder whose head THIS hat might eventually cover.
And if, as she wears it, what wonderful thoughts will she have under that hat in her creative head so warm.
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