Ladies, do you ever feel bored at your significant other’s place of business?
Does being in a recording studio make you feel like you’ve been buried alive in a coffin lined with buttons?
Bitch, make yo’self a HAT.
One recent Sunday I was lucky enough to have company on a studio visit, the incomparable Ms. Something Blue, local titillation professional. She had decided she needed something new for her upcoming burlesque performance with The Jigglewatts, a popular Austin-based burlesque troupe.
The upcoming show had a 60s theme, so Ms. Something Blue had elected to dance to “Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat” by Bob Dylan. She had the Leopard skin. Now we just needed a pillbox.
“What’s a pillbox hat?” asked the studio man.
DOES THE NAME JACKIE KENNEDY MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU, SIR?
Me neither. I’m also not really a hat person, due to my honey-glazed ham of a head. I was overcome with an inexplicable urge to stretch my crafting muscles, nevertheless. I opted to make one only if it could be comically tiny. I had to pick something to serve as a mold for my hat, and the studio didn’t have anything quite ideal. Sadly, my hat ended up straddling two worlds – not the right size to be funny, not the right size to be conventionally attractive. It must go through life suffering the fate of all the fat Imans and skinny Seth Rogens.
I had never practiced the millinery arts before. Luckily, this project called only for a few different types of fabric, a hot glue gun, a perverted love of peeling dried, hot glue from your flesh, and the anesthetic properties of many bottles of Dos Equis.
Neither of us had any measuring tape, and we failed to scrounge some up from the many drawers that looked like they ought to contain craft supplies. But no, sadly, just more cables and indecipherable plugs.
For optimum hat party results, drink every time everything goes wrong.
Turns out, making hats is quite simple, even for people for whom scissors and basic shapes present an substantial challenge.
Look at this SLOP. I remember reading on a report card from kindergarten that the teacher had noted my weakness with scissors as an impediment to my overall success.
LOOK AT ME NOW, Ms. Wadell!!!
I still suck, and I’m poor. You were right.
Ms. Something Blue is better at this than I am. She claims to not be an outfit-crafting expert, but her Instagram game is pretty tight (kill me), and she always has new, elaborate costumes to display on various social media outlets.
We took turns with the hot glue gun, attaching strips of stuff to the fabric, then folding the fabric over and gluing again.
Often times the time would glue a thing to another thing, only to realize that we had measured incorrectly. Luckily, it was not hard to rip everything apart and start over. Ms. Something Blue brought lots of extra stuff.
Instructions: Smoosh the thing to the other thing, cursing all the while.
Leopard skin pillbox progress.
And now, for a musical interlude:
Well, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Yes, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Well, you must tell me, baby
How your head feels under somethin’ like that
Under your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Well, you look so pretty in it
Honey, can I jump on it sometime?
Yes, I just wanna see
If it’s really that expensive kind
You know it balances on your head
Just like a mattress balances
On a bottle of wine
Cute lyrics, Dyl-Pickle! But I’ve never been able to get into his nasals.
After some more tucking and rolling and gluing, it was time for squishing and gluing and rolling.
If I had known all this time that you could manifest hats from thin air I would have…no, nothing would change. I respect myself too much to risk hat-hair.
The inside is an absolute mess. No matter, you irresponsible slattern, that’s why it goes on your head. Anyone who would judge you by the interior of your hat is not your friend.
Look at the proud glimmer in the eyes of a woman who can make her own hat! I’m ready for the Apocalypse!
After some tweaks (ahem, she started over from scratch) Ms. Something Blue was happy with her work.
Here she is, flaunting her hat.
And what a hat! Not only does she wear hats to match her sexy outfits, she wears sexy hats she MADE HERSELF. When since the pioneer days have you heard of such hearty girl power? Burlesque is basically next-level home economics for women who show promise in all the womanly arts (all of them).
Bob Dylan is fine. But I think there’s a better song to sum up this escapade.