My story

Where the Story Began

Hi there, I'm Mario. I'm glad you've found your way to my little shop. I first opened these doors in 1988, never imagining they'd stay open this long. Back then it was a cramped corner tucked between a bakery and a barber, with a draughty window and my father's old workbench — but it was enough for me. I had a few worn tools, an old Singer machine, and a love for the caps I remembered from my boyhood. 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 came out crooked, some a little too loose, but people never seemed to mind. They saw something honest in them. Fathers chose caps that reminded them of their own fathers, and young men grinned 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 made carried a little piece of time — shaped slowly, wrapped in brown paper, until it felt right. That was always enough.

A young Mario hand-stitching a cap in his workshop

A Farewell in Fabric

Now the years have caught up with me. My hands are slower, my eyes not as sharp, and at seventy-seven it's time to lay down my tools. 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 home.

Each one holds the years I spent here: the smell of cloth and steam, the rhythm of the old Singer late at night. If you take one with you, I hope it stays with you for years to come. These caps have been a part of my story — and now, perhaps, they can become a part of yours.