Log0034 | Jack - Hatter
After the best burger in Oceanside, Curiosity had us cross the street. I’m not sure how or why we ended up at Zito but once we walked in it was hard to leave.
Jack, who was two years out of his hatmaking apprenticeship, trained at the store under its owner Austin. He greeted us warmly as we came in and he began to show us around. I had imagined we’d walk into the hat store, look around for 3 or 4 minutes, then leave. Instead we were still there almost an hour later, learning about the lore of hatmaking.
Jack explained the whole process from start to finish. Every detail was a negotiation with the materials. From the felt and straw bodies down to the silver toothpicks and buckles that adorned their band. I hardly even wore hats, but hearing him talk through the details my interest in the topic never waned.
He would hand stitch ribbon to the brim. Threading away for 16 hours on that task alone. Hours more of silverwork were needed for each buckle. The actual sewing machine was only used for 10 minutes per hat, everything else was by hand.
We learnt why beaver was better than rabbit and why chinchilla was more expensive than both. Jack was convinced he could make a working straw hat last a decade and beaver felt last a century. The fifteen hundred dollar price tags began to seem entirely justified. The products were exquisite. Art from craftsmen, true projects of passion.
I think I’ve had a growing interest in the craftsmen, bushmen, tradesmen that I encounter. The ones that take satisfaction in their work and carry it out with pride and enthusiasm. It seems increasingly rare, so when I see it, I’m drawn. In the days of growing automation and cheap mass-produced alternatives we are somehow losing the art of appreciation. A thousand dollar hat could be conspicuous consumption, or it could be the price of work done how it should be; done with care.