I'm resisting the end of summer. The lazy days, the nights spent out on random rides, the dripping sweat.
My list of things to do and places to go isn't even half done yet.
But there will be another long, hot, gorge-yourself-on-all-the-watermelon-you-can-eat Boston summer, and I'll be pushing out hats through the fall. Hopefully there are people out there who want to rep Boston a little bit...and ride bikes as well?
I think it's only appropriate that Boston Biker got the first ever Boston s-class hat.
Partially because of the handle, partially because without this guy, I wouldn't have a site host and a really cool custom layout and a person to do my advertising for me at the BFF.
So here's to Boston, Boston cycling caps, Boston Biker, and well, more Boston cycling caps.
Now, who wants one?
I'm sure those of you who went to the International Bicycle Film Festival kick off party last night and saw Bostonbiker also saw my hat on his head.
The picture above is the hat; although of course, you'll have to drop by the BFF to check out what's underneath that brim.
And if you're checking out the BFF this weekend, you'll probably even see me around. Except, yeah, you probably won't know it's me.
So maybe this whole idea was a bit like communist China.
Good in theory but didn't exactly work out as planned in practice.
I think my last two free hats are going out tomorrow...but that doesn't mean they won't be available anymore. People have expressed interest in getting a hat but I just can't seem to reach those people through a system of random distribution.
Which is why, like China, I just might be going capitalist. It seems like a fairly good system, you know, trading green sheets of paper with dead presidents on them for a handmade hat. Fully lined. Finished by hand. You'll want one, trust me. Sold on the idea yet?
If not, well, maybe you'll just have to see one for yourself. I've bribed someone to wear an s-class hat at the International Bicycle Film Festival. Apparently he'll be there all weekend. And if you see something you like, well, I like dead presidents.
Re-runs are great; there are some shows you can watch over and over and over again. And on those days you can barely drag yourself out of bed, starving but too hung over to actually make anything to eat, the warm glow of Law and Order marathons are God's gift to the now-latent raging alcoholic in you. They justify sitting on the couch all day. With a beer.
But you know, it sucks when your life becomes one.
Because while mindlessly watching TV re-runs at least gives you the pretense that you're doing something productive, that's not really the case when it's applied to your life. You just become something boring to look at, because nothing else is around, or something only tolerated because flipping through the channels is too much of an effort.
Which is kind of how I've been feeling lately. Cut, sew, finish, drop off, blog, silence, repeat. For some reason, Boston just doesn't seem to like my hats. And for some reason, people in other cities do. I've been putting off making hats for friends in other cities ("yeah, sure, after I finish these three hats I want to give out..."), and have had the word "commission" tossed my way (whatever that means). So for all the friends I've been neglecting, and to all the people who have asked for a hat...well, something seems to be in the works.
But Boston, what gives?
Everyone has something they denounce in public but are secretly proud of or own. Like popped collars and pink polos; the ones "your friend" has and you would never wear in Boston because it emits a beacon of douchery, but somehow it finds its way into your suitcase on a daytrip to the Cape.
Yeah, we're all two-faced. Old news, I know.
But sometimes you can't deny who you are, even if you try. Me, I've been cursed as being born in the 80s, that fabulous era of flock of seagulls haircuts, gold MC Hammer pants, faded blue denim jackets, and shoulder pads. And in terms of fashion, those gold MC Hammer pants should probably stay in the past. Still, I can't deny the appeal of the wearing the most mismatching colors in clashing patterns all in one outfit.
Or the appeal of Marky Mark. Or his brother, Donnie.
So on Saturday morning when I rolled into the Wheelhouse Diner and saw an autographed pictures of Donnie on the wall, I jumped to make this hat. The fabric's been lying around for a while and it's so awfully, perfectly 80s.
And no other fabric was as appropriate to make my first newly designed hat. I'm dropping this off somewhere today - hopefully to someone else who loves the 80s.
