Hoed van wijnrood vilt met opstaande rand en platte verzonken bol, versierd met rood grosgrain aan een kant gestrikt c. 1938 - 1940

Editor: Let's talk about this wine-red felt hat by Rose Descat, probably made between 1938 and 1940. It's a charming little thing, very plush. Something about the deep color makes it seem both serious and playful at the same time. What jumps out at you? Curator: Oh, isn't it delicious? It practically begs to be worn to a clandestine meeting at a smoky Parisian café, or perhaps a particularly daring garden party. It makes me think of all the secrets it might have overheard, all the dreams it might have sheltered from the rain. Look at the grosgrain ribbon; it adds just the right touch of understated elegance. I imagine this hat on a woman who knew her own mind. Don't you think? Editor: Definitely! It has a subtle power. What do you think about the felt material itself? Is there something it says about that era? Curator: Absolutely. Felt was accessible, yes, but the way it's shaped here, almost molded, speaks to a dedication to craftsmanship. It's unpretentious luxury. There's a story in every fibre, a whisper of wartime austerity tempered with a longing for beauty and self-expression. Where did she dream of going, this hat's owner, as she dressed herself each day? Editor: I never thought a hat could contain so many stories! It’s much more than just something to keep the sun off. Curator: Isn't that the beauty of it? It is, in essence, wearable history and selfhood all rolled into one gorgeous piece of felt! Editor: Well, I will never look at a hat the same way again! Thanks for the insights.