I’ve not had my sewing machine out in ages due misunderstanding we had on its last appearance, but when one of my many J-’s asked me to make her a hat, I got rather excited. Amongst my ever-increasing stash of vintage patterns, I had exactly what she was looking for, and as she gave me completely free rein with colour and fabric choice, I thought I’d go all out and buy some tweed.
Luckily, John Lewis had a perfect remnant of herring-bone tweed on sale. And better still, this scrap of fabric was hiding the ideal lining – a shiny red satin-effect material which I snapped up quickly.
As usual when I’m working from old-school patterns, I ignore everything about interfacing because it seems like unnecessary faff, and I don’t know what interfacing is anyway. Also, once I’ve cut out all the pattern pieces, I discard the instructions because I find them impossible to follow – partially because they go on about interfacing, but also partially because I haven’t a clue what any of the things I do whilst I’m sewing are called. I’ve never had any lessons in needlework so for the most part, I just put things together as best I can in a way that I think makes sense.
This time, my haphazard approach seems to have turned out pretty well. Except that the tweed wasn’t stiff enough to form the cap’s brim, and I am the world’s messiest machine sewer. So, never one to be deterred, and having decided that my new role model in life is Tony Stark, I got creative. With duct tape.
It’s not the world’s neatest solution, but it surely works! Who needs interfacing when you have industrial sticking tools? The cap now happily stands on its own. And to prove it, here are some pictures…