Today, I turned back the clock. This was not the plan, but as I set out on a daily drift, I stumbled across a hat store- a haberdashery in earlier times. You don’t see too many of these anymore, but they were once ubiquitous.

The hats on display were beautiful. And, like most handcrafted, specialty items, priced accordingly. Beyond the aesthetics, the utility of a hat is clear. Perhaps a bad hair day or to block the sun, wind, or rain. Throughout history, hats have been worn for fashion, to designate status, and to make a statement.

While the designs here were attractive and reflected a creative multi-culturalism, more than anything, I immediately wanted to discover where the showroom ended and the workshop began. That is, where and how these hats were made. The material production, the craft. Milliners and hatters represent a type of old occupation which holds no great analogy to our present, particularly when we considered the nature of a workshop versus that of an office or factory.

Edison, the shop journeyman, was kind enough to give me a tour. Here I saw firsthand how these hats resulted from a system of apprenticeship, logistic considerations, and entrepreneurial grit.

Broadly, after sourcing the fur or felt, typically beaver or rabbit, the process involves, among other steps, molding, heating, dyeing, and threading. This is intricate and time consuming work. In Montecristi, Ecuador, where a small set of this shop’s hats (including the straw one I bought) are designed and shipped, skilled workers methodically concentrate their time to threading a hat that might take anywhere from 6 months to a year to complete.

Hats are perhaps an unlikely item where the local meets the global. To be sure,

hats are not uniquely African, American, Asian, or European. Rather, like music, food or art, hats are given meaning and reflect the culture or histories they emerge from. A Panama hat, a cowboy hat, a newsboy cap. While mass produced hats such as baseball caps or Stetsons almost certainly dominate sales, if not our contemporary imagination, a Top Hat spotted in the Bowery or a Fedora in a cocktail lounge might allow a glimpse back to the Gilded Age or Jazz Era, respectively. And given the placement or reference of hats within specific historical moments, a hat and a hat store to some degree serve the same role as to what Raphael Samuel described as a ‘theatre of memory.’

As we follow the value chain, and the craftsmanship necessary to put these memories into form, we realize that the status of hats is largely realized through labor time and, of course, marketing. After all, in the end, it is a business. And this shop is no exception. Money changes hands, goods are exchanged. But the point of sale and the subsequent journeys that will take place atop a customer’s head, is also a social act. One might safely say there’s more to a hat than its brim.

I walked a lot today and my feet are tired. Maybe tomorrow I will visit a cobbler.