Hats of the 50s and 60s, Part 2.

Vintage packing materials accompanied this lates box of hats, including a plastic bag labeled Toppettes by Brod. Researching this brand introduced me to an emerging millinery style of the late 50s. Minimal in construction and coverage, but not in impact, these hats took the form of either a large headband or an open-crowned pillbox or circle hat. These forms were then decorated simply with a net veil, flowers, or layers of wide ribbon. The hats, “known as whimsies, hatlets, toppettes, coif veils or block veils,” were designed to appeal to non-hat wearers and those who did not want to flatten their curls.

While an online search of Toppettes by Brod yielded many examples of vintage hats for sale, information on the company or designer remained elusive until I found an article that included a first name, Alfred Brod. Alfred’s father, whose parents were Austrian, had been a Brooklyn manufacturer of “ladies dresses.” By 1940, Alfred was a manufacturer of millinery trim. Not hats, just hat trim! This could have included ribbon, netting, flowers, leaves, beading, and braiding. In the late 50s someone at Brod had the brilliant idea they didn’t need to be milliners to make hats. They just needed a couple simple forms (circlets and headbands), which they could trim themselves and thus expand their business. Even as hats went out of style in the 70s and 80s they remained in business by expanding their line to hair accessories, such as barrettes and clips. Curiously, in the 1980s they became a source for sequined disco tops. I can’t know how this shift was accommodated, but I suspect it had something to do with the kind of commercial machinery used for making trim — perhaps it could be modified for the application of sequins.

While only the plastic bag carries the label, two of our hats fit the Toppette profile. One is a headband covered with a large floppy orange ribbon and net. The other is a purple circlet adorned simply with a matching flower and net.

Two other hats in the collection further reflect the popularity of this minimal concept: a hat made of numerous loops of golden ribbon topped with purple net and flowers (labelled Mr. John Jr. “Celebrity); and another constructed of orange raffia leaves built over an orange velvet headband.

A white hat incorporates a different approach to minimal construction. It is built on fabric-covered wire loops, which create a basket-inspired shape, and trimmed with four tremendous white satin flowers, so flower-fairy-like, it’s hard to believe it’s not a costume.

The final hat by Norman-Paulvin has similar proportions, with large folds of pale pink organza and pink net built onto a headband. This hat is labelled a whimsie, but the company had experimented with different names, including one of the worst, Headband Frou-frou, in 1957.

In the same bag were two pink velvet-trimmed hat pins and another perplexing accessory: a brown bow on a matching hair-like extension. To be clear, what looks like hair, is in fact some sort of stiff fiber or straw — the strands are inflexible. Had this been removed from a hat or was it intended to be added to one’s coiffure on its own? I’d never seen anything like it and didn’t know what to do with it, so I added it to the pink hat simply because they were stored together. Any guesses out there?

Lastly, a family photo from the 1980s. My mother could always egg Grandma into some sort of silliness. I was delighted to find this old photo of them wearing two of the hats from the collection, obviously as a lark since their attire and the location were clearly summer-casual. Even my Grandpa seems to be wearing an out-of-style hat. If I were to guess what was happening here, I’d say this was birthday gathering where everyone was invited to wear silly hats. So there’s Mom in the orange raffia headband and Grandma in one of her flamboyant feather fascinators from the previous post (I trust she would forgive me for sharing a photo that captured an unflattering expression). Although, it’s not a photo showing the hats worn during their fashionable height in the 60s, it does connect the family to the collection and corroborates my memories of rummaging through the attic trunks in the 80s.

These 6 hats brings our collection to a total of 42, and — I’m almost sorry to say — there are more to come! But not next week — I need a break from hats!