September 15 marks the middle of the month that (cough cough wipes sweat) ushers in the brisk autumn air.
It is for that reason this day is chosen as Felt Hat Day.
Felt was once a very popular material for both men and women's hats, and the cooler weather made them the perfect fashion accessory.
I adore felt hats, and even in Florida I wear mine every chance I get.
There's something magical about wool felt.
I don't know why or quite how to describe it.
It's warm and soothing. The wool is pliable, strong and forgiving. I prefer my felted hats big and a tad floppy, but I suppose for me, the magic of felt hats can be summed up
Fleur Delacour et les élèves de Beauxbâtons.
(And ummm, can you guess how insane I am right now over the mere possibility of visiting l'Auberge Nicolas Flamel in a few weeks? It's getting ridiculous.
*update- Paris & Flamel's blew my mind.*)
Back to felt...
Since I can't quite put the magic into words, I painted it as part of my ongoing figurative series.
I sent an image of my work-in-progress and left the words to Quirine Dongelmans.
She came up with a lovely narrative that I think you'll really enjoy.
The perspective is particularly magical...
"The Little Piece of Purple Felt"
One day, a dull, purple-colored piece of felt lies hidden underneath a pile of clutter: more pieces of felt fabric, different colored thread spools, designs, and tools. All trying to hide the purple felt, as it doesn’t seem worthwhile, to anyone. It’s a strange color, dull, and a little shabby perhaps. Heck, the other pieces don’t even know how this one got on their table.
The little piece of purple felt tries to scoot, shimmy, and shove her way from underneath the chaos. All she can manage is get the tiniest of corners out in the open.
A beam of sunlight softly starts to illuminate the tiny little corner of purple felt. She never felt so good and soaks up the warmth and light. Relief washes over her. It begins to brighten her from within.
Suddenly, old, bony fingers carefully pinch the purple fabric and try to pull her out. All the other sad pieces of felt fabric, different colored thread spools, designs, and tools are roughly shoved aside and fall to the ground.
Finally released from her clutter prison, the purple felt can soak up all the warm brightness that she could only feel on one tiny corner before. As if she breathes in the light, she starts to brighten more and more.
For a little while, the old, bony fingers keep holding her up in the air, admiring her almost glowing purple color. Suddenly, the table is wiped clean of the little that was left and she’s put back on the table.
The back of an old, shrunken milliner with long, white hair bound in a slightly messy bun sits hunched over in her antique, wooden chair in front of an old, wooden desk, hiding the purple piece of felt. Full of energy, snippets of purple are flying. Tools, models, and cans are grabbed, used, and thrown down. Created chaos. Time scurries by. Twilight sets in. Things calm down.
The old milliner, carefully crowns something hidden with a little piece of purple. She stumbles back, in awe. She clasps her bony hands together. Another masterpiece.
The purple felt gleams on top of a wooden mannequin head. But it’s not a piece of fabric any longer. A beautiful, classic, but quirky purple felt hat with a small, black band. She glows. Illuminates the entire room.
The bony fingers carefully put her in a purple hatbox, matching her gorgeous, glowing color. The round box with white handles can barely contain her brightness, waiting to burst out to illuminate and brighten another soul.
To learn more about Quirine and her work, or to just drop her a line, visit her website.
You can also Contact me with art or writing collaboration submission inquiries.
Do you wear hats?
What kind of magic did you find today?
Let me know in the comments, I'd love to know!
Thanks for stopping by,