An American Duchess Brain Hat

Or as I like to call it - a jellyfish explosion in a boudoir factory.

 

One needs lots of hats. You can't fight it - it's just a fact of life. This one's supposed to be a  bergere with loops and puffs of silk gauze all over the crown, a la the "Brain Hat" from the American Duchess Guide to 18th Century Dressmaking. (page 153)

I began by covering a straw hat blank with silk taffeta:

I traced the shape of the hat brim onto purple silk taffeta, leaving about an inch of seam allowance at the edges.  I cut roughly out a hole for the crown, then stitched the silk down at the outer edge of the brim, smoothing and folding the seam allowance over to the underside of the hat. After that, I sewed the silk to the inner edge of the brim, tight against the crown of the hat. 

 
Next, I covered the crown with a square of purple silk taffeta, smoothed and pinned my way around and over the edge of the crown.

 

I stitched the silk down tightly against the base of the crown and cut away the excess.  Because the hat will be covered in billows of silk gauze, you don't need to make a clean finish here. You won't see it.

Next, I covered the underside of the hat. I've described how I line the underside of a hat brim in a previous post here. The procedure is the same - except that in this case when you bind the brim you can either use the silk you used for the top side of the hat, or you can choose a ribbon to match or contrast with your color scheme.

 

The thing about lining hats is - it hurts.

Once the hat was lined, I had to trim it. I use the words "had to," because I ran into technical difficulties almost immediately. 

I'd  planned to make my 'brain' out of a rather elegant gold-striped silk gauze, but the gauze fabric was lousy.  

 I'd purchased the fabric from a highly-regarded retailer who had previously sold me wonderful fabrics, but this particular gauze arrived as a loose, irregular weave, woven from a stiff, coarse thread and the raw edges of this fabric didn't fray - they splintered, shattering open when I cut the stuff, or lifted the stuff, or touched it, or, cross my heart,even looked at it sideways from underneath my eyelashes.  Commercial fray-check products didn't help at all -the threads of the weave were so far apart that it was like dabbing glue onto the end of a broom, and it was just about as useful. 

For the ruffle along the edge of the brim, a conventional hem was clearly right out of the question - when you put a needle through the horrible stuff, the thread dragged out channels and drove puckers into the cloth. 
Eventually I worked out I could press - carefully - a half-inch fold without losing more than 1/4 or 3/8 of an inch to the shattering problem, and I could hold it - carefully - in place with a running stitch.  If you didn't look too close.

For the brain I reckoned I'd have less trouble - puddling on a pile of the stuff would hide the fraying edges beneath the puddle, and despite the looseness of the weave, the gauze was so crisp that it would - surely - stand up in lovely folds and puffs!
And it did.  Unfortunately, there was one more little problem: the weave of that damn gauze was so loose that my pinhead were sliding right through - even my biggest clover quilting pins were passing through like hot steel through a blob of butter, and pretty soon I  had a high balloon of gauze with pins stuck to a straw shell underneath it, and  naturally,  working a pin back out wasn't half as effortless as watching it slight right in!

At this point I felt committed beyond point of return (please don’t argue here about the economy of sunk costs.  By now I wasn't a rational actor in any way, form or shape - so I pinned and I stitched (and don't ask how the stuff handled the stitching either, thank you) and I pinned, and I pinned and I stitched, and I stitched, and wherever the stitching really wouldn't hold I stuck a pink bow, 

 

- and then because I didn't even want to look at that horrible gauze anymore I abandoned the ruffle and bound the hat in a gold satin ribbon, and when I sat up to take a breath, it looked GOOD.

And you'd think that would be the end of it, wouldn't you?

I went away and did something else for a day or two, and felt pretty good about the whole thing, really I did, but then I came back to the hat to stitch a pair of ribbon ties to the underside, and I found that that bloody BLOODY gauze had slipped its stitching in several places and was popping up where it shouldn't be popping, so I had to sit down again and stitch it down again, and when I sat up again, the stupid bloody brain was held down all right, but there was absolutely almost no froof left in it whatsoever.  All my big billows and puffs had been deflated into something that looked a something like a collapsed pudding and something like a big gauze cowpat.

 

At this point there was absolutely no enthusiasm left in ME whatsoever either.
 

Even worse, my puffy pink bows stood out like a bouquet of sore pink thumbs.  I bound the brim edge with pink ribbon layered over the gold, to tie it all together, but now that hat looked like a freaking melted Neapolitan ice-cream.

It was NOT a good moment.

I walked away again for another day or two.  And then I was done.  I stuck that stupid wonky ruffle onto the edge of the hat so that it looked more like a deliberate sort of mess and less like a flat pudding on a purple plate -

 

And then I got dressed up and took photographs to tell it that I hadn't been beaten. I had WON. And whenever it slips another stitch or shreds at me I can pull out those photographs, wave them at it, and it will KNOW that I did.

Amen.