For Australians, a hat is necessary to survival. Under the harshest of suns, the broad brim offers respite and shade. The battered hat, worn from our sapphire coast to the red heart of our endless desert, is symbolic of our way of life – woven into our cultural DNA.

For me, a hat is so much more than a piece of headwear. Hats tell a story. They evoke memories, drum up nostalgia and represent the essence of who we are. At a glance, you can tell a lot about someone by the hat they wear – farmer, free spirit, urban dweller, surfer, fashionista, race goer.

I started creating head pieces at night after long days in the office working in corporate Sydney. It was a way to channel my creative energy – and soon, friends were making orders for special events.

It was a moment in time with my dad that made me realise my hobby was turning into so much more. Dad had been battling cancer for a decade, and every moment was precious with him.

Travelling back home to Scone in New South Wales’ Upper Hunter for Christmas in 2019, we were watching John Wayne movies, analysing the actors’ hats, marvelling at the stories they tell, when I turned to him and said, ‘that’s what I want to do’. 

Just before he passed, Dad gifted me his extraordinary collection of hats – my grandfather’s beaten up felt work hat from the 60s, sweat stained and blanket-stitched with yarn around the crown. The short-brimmed fedora my then actor father wore on set, the day he met my mum. Hats that whisper of full lives lived richly.