(See my earlier post for the first stages of its construction.)
The lining, snapped into place.
The lining and underside of the hat. Isn't that bright red needlepoint plastic oh-so-18th Century?
Oh, and of course, you can't forget to stick a giant feather on the thing to top it off.
The pictures don't do justice to the brim curl that characterizes this hat's namesake and inspired the hat itself, but I assure you the curl is there, and it's awesome. (Though I might redo the whole project in the future, there's always things that could be improved upon.)
Neither can I resist making an elegant leg if I've got breeches, a blouse (apparently shoes aren't required), and a fancy hat nearby. Been doing it since I was 12 (playing Dodger in a school play. Yeah, that's before my voice decided it likes me as a coloratura soprano with an F6. Yikes.), and I ain't got no plans to stop any time soon. As it turns out, this hat works as well with breeches as it would with a ballgown, which is fantastic, since as of now I've got the former and only a vague idea of constructing the latter.
I would love to own a custom-tailored ballgown and act like a girl for once in my life, but giant French panniers aren't exactly built for city subways. I doubt I'd make it through the doors of the train, let alone past a turnstile. I should be able to find some adaptation of 18th C. womens' fashion that's practical today though, that's what I'm good at. Speaking of which, I've got another sewing project lined up. My belated birthday present (meaning Mum's paying for the materials, but I'm sewing almost all of it) -- a 1760s frock coat. (And getting the pattern to fit my tiny frame was some adventure, let me tell you.)
Til my next post, dziekuje et guten nacht.
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