At this point, failure should be no surprise to me. Nevertheless, I am often shocked by my own missteps, feeling particularly disappointed when said failure results from a supposed area of personal expertise (e.g. crazy homemade hats). Disappointment abounds in Mr. Tiny's Workshop...
Intent on showing off my wacky tacky Tree Toppers to the family, I paraded them through the living room before the hot glue was even dry. So busy humming "Pomp and Circumstance," I completely misjudged the time it would take to finish the song before explaining my creations. I had barely uttered the last "duh-dum" when Mary pounced. Practically wrenching it from my hands, she perched the snow angel atop her head and covetously inquired if it was to be her Christmas hat.
Why hadn't I thought of that?!!
Really, why?!! I mean, I have long held the reputation for turning just about anything into a hat - candy containers, placemats, fruit baskets, paper plates, panty hose and whiffle balls, etc. If I hadn't thought of transforming my dollar-store delights into headpieces then I was fairly certain that my imagination was broken. I had failed the holiday. I had failed myself. The only way to rectify the situation was to make some holiday headware that would sustain Mary throughout a season's worth of parties. This year, instead of a Christmas dress, Mary would get a Christmas head-dress - with one caveat; I told her that if I made the hat, she had to wear it to at least one holiday party.
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| It all began in very much the same way as the tree toppers; the usual suspects included glitter tulle, doll head/hands, graduated bells, pipe cleaner, and pompoms. The red, white, and black tinsel trimmings came from a deconstructed penguin decoration found at the 99 Cents Store. |
As I had used the baby doll head for the snow angel, all I had were the face and hands of a sweet, bespectacled old lady (but enough about me). Using them, I carefully began transforming the flotsam and jetsam of the craft stash into the merriest of Christmas widows, Mrs. Santa.
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| I gave Mrs. Santa a full makeover (including a touch up of her eyes, lips, and hair). She wears a mobcap and proffers a miniature Christmas tree from the cake supply store. The two-tired skirt works as a veil; the white tinsel trim is wired so the veil can be shaped as needed. |
As the hat grew in size and scope, it occurred to me that maybe this might be a bet that even I didn't have the nerve to enforce. But Mary called my bluff. Not only did she wear the Mrs. Santa hat to a party - she kind of rocked it.
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| In a bizarre, crazy Christmas way it works, right? And when it is not in commission as a hat, it can be employed as a super-festive toilet paper cozy! |
Mary also upped the ante of the bet; at the very last minute (as we were on our way out the door), she dared me to wear a crazy party hat. With negative time on my hands and no hat, I grabbed a tinsel tree decoration from the side table, quickly wiring on some ornaments and a bit of elastic to make an "aluminum" christmas tree hat.
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| Leave it to these two weirdos to show up at a fancy, grown-up holiday party wearing homemade garbage on their heads. |
The strange part is that the hats were actually a hit! As it turns out, having a Christmas tree sitting on your head is quite the ice-breaker; all evening long conversations began by acknowledging the celephant in the room...and the hat on his head.
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| "Um...my eyes are down here." |
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| Even Sage, our host for the evening, approved of the ceiling-scraping millinery. We're sending a plaster repairman next week. |
To balance the sky-high spectacle on her head, Mary wore all vintage - a black '40s dress in rayon crepe, costume jewelry, and a '40s fur jacket. In spite of the ebullient holiday cheer inherent in Mrs. Santa, the outfit read as a wartime femme fatale in an unlikely and depressing yuletide movie (see: Christmas Holiday). And so we say to you...
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| "Merry Christmas and A Happy Noir Year...'Always!'" |
"Always" - Deanna Durbin in Christmas Holiday (1944)
Cheers!
Mr. Tiny
