Where the Story Began
Hi there, I’m Henry. I’m glad you’ve found your way to my little shop. I first opened the doors in 1968, never imagining it would last this long. Back then, it was just a narrow space tucked between a bakery and a barber, but it was enough for me. I had a bench, a few worn tools, and a love for the old caps I remembered from my youth. Flat caps, berets, newsboys, the kind men wore with pride when I was a boy.
A Life in Every Stitch
In those early years, I taught myself by trial and error, cutting, stitching, and steaming until a cap felt right in my hands. Some turned out crooked, some too loose, but people didn’t mind. They saw something honest in them. Fathers chose caps that reminded them of their own fathers, and young men smiled at their reflection in the mirror.
I never chased fashion. What mattered to me was patience, care, and making something that would last. Every cap I crafted carried a piece of time, shaped slowly and carefully, until it felt right. That was enough.
A Farewell in Fabric
Now the years have caught up with me. My hands are slower, my eyes not as sharp, and the shop is quiet most days. Still, I feel nothing but gratitude, for every customer who stepped through the door, every story shared over the counter, and every cap that found a new home.
This is my final collection, the last caps I will ever make. Each one holds the years I spent here, the smell of cloth and steam, the rhythm of the old sewing machine at night. If you take one with you, I hope it stays for many years to come. These caps are a part of my story, and now, perhaps, they can become a part of yours too.
