The Panama Hatworks of Montecristi is proud to tell this story of how Panama hats are made. There isn't a factory with belching smoke stacks and conveyor belts full of paja toquilla snaking through machinery simply exiting the plant as neatly boxed, cloned Panama hats. There is no presentation with glamorous glitzy marble floors reflecting hardwood lined offices filled with models pretending to work in $1000 Italian suits and flawlessly white, horse-toothed grins of perfect orthodontistry. There are no flat screen HD monitors adorning each desktop, nor hand held memo-takers, nor 24K gold cufflinks. You'll also not see photos of twenty-five story studies in glass and ceramic-brick architecture called The Home Office or the Huffy Stuffy Branch. The only Palm Pilots are occasional tropical birds soloing in and flying among the various palm trees. Yet, in a glitzy office somewhere, is a hat stand with no less than two fino fino Panama hats from Montecristi. For that we are thankful! This is a story for readers of prose to enjoy. It is a work of fiction, but the facts are there.

The sun has been up almost an hour and a lone tropical bird calls. The clear tune echoes softly in the filtered morning mists. Wisps of smoke rise, then break off from each cabin as breakfast smells permeate the tropical coastal village. Some roosters crow in competition and a hen squawks as she delivers an egg. A baby cries in the distance and several dogs bark across the river welcoming morning.

Your Panama hat started its existence on the Ecuadorian tropical coast as a lone toquilla plant. First the toquilla, a tall, rich green palm-like plant, is harvested of its leaves, called fronds. These fronds are taken to market and sold. Later, the fronds are deftly split their length along the grain and divided lengthwise repeatedly using only the fingers as tools. After splitting the fronds into long flat fibers varying from 1 to 3 mm in width the woman, christened 78 years ago in Manta as Maria del Carmen, the end of the first link in your Panama hats rises to place them on a pile of separated toquilla fronds, harvested with machete from the tropical coast by her nephew and niece Carlos and Angelica. Truckloads of toquilla leaves pass on the way to processing groups from a local farm but Maria del Carmen's family still harvests from the wild since the toquilla plant is in abundance and reproduces quickly.

The finer the fiber is the finer the Panama hat that will be woven from them. The fibers actually the long bundled capillaries of the plant (the circulatory system) and are bundles of what botanists call "xylem tubes" which all leaves and stems of all plants have. Wood for example is merely empty dry xylem tubes arranged by the tree into radial bundles. These bundles are separated to make common paper. The xylem tubes of the toquilla plant are the microscopic capillaries of the plant, carrying nutrient bearing fluids, and are made of cellulose (plant fiber) and comprise the support of the stems and the leaves of any land plant. The toquilla leaves are comprised almost entirely of these long parallel microscopic tubes which extend in one fiber from the root to the last leaf tip. The leaves therefore can actually be divided lengthwise very thinly, again and again, to the point of being hair-like. The Incas spun thread and wove linen-like cloth from these nearly microscopic fibers. Linen itself is made similarly from extremely thin fibers from the stems of the flax plant, distributed worldwide.

Maria del Carmen lays the fibers on the ground beside her, straight like hair, after her fingernails separate them from the fronds with the precision of a jeweler. Then she gingerly stands up, takes a deep breath, arches her back, gathers them up as a bundle, throws them on her shoulder and walks across her patio through the chickens to put the fibers into an organized hank beside the barrels of boiling river water.

Since her husband Luis died a year and a half ago, she and her family have survived rather well making paja toquilla fiber as they always have. Her nephew Carlos puts the hanks into boiling kettles made of two old fifty-five gallon discarded oil barrels. The wood fires were lit at 4 AM, two hours before sun up to get the water boiling vigorously. After 5 or more hours in the boiling barrels, the green fiber turns to limp, gelatinous brown colored hanks.

Carlos carefully removes the hanks from the barrels using an oar like paddle carved from wood and sets them aside on a plank platform to cool and drain. Carlos and his older sister Angelica then carry the hanks to the river's edge where a wooden plank incline serves as a wash board and they squeeze and wash out the softer organic material from the fibers. By now it is past lunch time and fried plantains and wood cooked chicken fill the air. The hour of washing leaves yielded almost pure hair like cellulose fiber which was once the xylem tube bundles of the toquilla fronds. The fiber hank is now considerably lighter in color. Carlos rinses it a final time in the river, squeezes it and water pours out. He lifts it to drain and Angelica and he hang it over an improvised clothesline made of thick blue rope tied to a couple poles driven into the ground, to dry in the sun. The sun bleaches the fiber somewhat as well. It is now called paja toquilla or literally translated from Spanish, toquilla fiber.

The hanks accumulate during the week as they dry and bleach in the sun. Then Maria del Carmen's other nephew Manuel sorts the hanks of fiber as to fineness and color, bails them by bundles sorted by quality using plastic twine, and waits for the bus to Pile to pass. Having loaded the hanks on top of the bus bound for Pile (remember, Pee'-lay), Manuel's bus ride along the bumpy and rutted jungle road terminates an hour later in Pile, home village of the hat weavers. He arrives in Pile and pays the bus driver the usual dollar and 35 cent fare and unloads the bulky hanks of paja toquilla fiber onto the sidewalk. It is Thursday morning and every Thursday morning Manuel arrives with a bail of paja toquilla. Juan waits for Manuel in anticipation of the new fiber. Juan owns a small cooperative wherein women weave hats and Juan himself is a master weaver. Juan carefully inspects the fiber hanks, feels them in his fingers, and sets a price with Manuel.

The paja toquilla fiber is sold not only in Pile but to hat weavers all over Ecuador, mostly in the coastal areas and in and around Cuenca. Fine fiber is sold for more than courser fiber due to the more time it takes to separate it and wash it. This isn't hype at all. It is fact. The toquilla plant of southern Ecuador, due to the favorable growing conditions involving the latitude, humidity, rainfall and soil properties, for a fact produces the smoothest, longest and strongest fiber of toquilla plants in any locale in Latin America. The plant species however is used as an ornamental plant in many Latin American countries and in the Galapagos as the fiber isn't suitable for quality Panama hats. This is not to say that inferior fiber is not used, buyer beware, especially in literally all other Latin American countries.

The hat weavers at the cooperative that Juan manages moisten the fiber slightly to make it more pliable. They (women in this case) sit in chairs in a circle, occasionally talking and joking, but the work is serious and intensely precise. They sit, without a table or work bench, in a generic wooden chair or on the floor but not in direct sunlight, and begin weaving hats strictly by hand from the center of the crown.

It is said the master weavers only use non glaring light and weave only on cloudy days and/or in moonlight so as to see the fibers better as this prevents errors. Shade trees provide this light also. Juan weaves most of the time when he's not buying fiber or selling hat bodies and prefers to sit under his woven reed canopy in back of the coop. Weavers can be seen typically sitting inside their doorways well into the front room away from glare. Remember, they are working with fibers of less than one mm to two mm in breadth. There is no loom nor machine nor tool of any kind to aid in the weaving process, it is all done with the bare fingers and fingernails. Starting from the center of the crown, radiating out in a spiral, the weavers incorporate more and more strands into the project, each strand being more than a meter long. This produces the famed concentric circles in the crown if you hold the hat up to the light and look at the crown of the hat.

Some false information exists about these concentric circles but they are merely the more dense areas produced by the juncture of added strands as the weave radiates out from a common center. To clarify, the finer the fiber, naturally, the more circles you may see if you hold the crown up to the light. But this is not an axiom of an indication of quality, that is, the myth of "the more circles the better the quality" is not necessarily true. Why? Many factors enter into the total quality rendition of a finished Panama hat. So don't be misled by this lone axiom.

Taking this further, weaving good Panama hats, as with any skill, depends on several variables.

First, the quality of the fiber must be excellent to produce an excellent Panama hat. Course fiber can not produce fine weaves, period. But courser fiber of high quality can be woven tightly and densely producing a good inexpensive every day hat and sold on the local market or to tourists who aren't particularly familiar with qualities. Mixing course with finer fibers also detracts from the regularity of the weave producing a hopsack haphazard and undesirable look. Fineness of fiber alone "doesn't a good hat make" because super fine expensive fiber can be woven loosely as well, taking less time, producing a less dense fabric, rendering a flimsy floppy hat without body that won't retain its block or shape. The best of the most fino of finos are woven of high quality fine fiber, and are woven tightly and super regularly, over a period of months and with an unnoticeable minimum of irregularities, unequal fibers, twists, knots and other "errors".

Second, the regularity of the weaver's plaits makes for a smooth desirable finish as mentioned above, and the density control of the weaving quality itself is important.

Third, the way in which the fibers are added as the hat increases in size is a factor of obvious "flaws" such as visible knots, twists and fiber inversions. One side of the ribbon-like fiber is smoother than the other and to mix sides in the same hat makes for irregular texture of weave. A master weaver selects which fibers go into the hat and rejects those which are not uniform in many qualities to be used usually by his underlings in lesser quality hats. This selection is done by sight inputs and tactile feel.

Juan the weaver's family coop is a group of family women who have been weaving hats since childhood. Their ancient ancestors were the original tribal weavers in the southern or south central coast of Ecuador. The best paja toquilla fiber comes from families similar to that of Maria del Carmen and many other large and small producers. Great combination in the same locale! The village of Montecristi is most noted for Panama hats because it is one of the largest villages in the area and more importantly is a center and market place itself for the weavers from Pile and other villages and hamlets close by to come and sell their hat bodies.

Juan takes a few hat bodies fresh from his weavers to the Montecristi market each two weeks as they are finished by the women who've worked on them for a month straight, as these are good "finos" but not "fino finos". Like Juan's cooperative, the master weaver's shops are concentrated in nearby Pile (again pronounced as in Hawaii, Pee'-lay) and other nearby villages as well. Juan sells his hat bodies to the highest bidder, returning 75 percent of the money to the weavers and returning 5 percent to his metal box from which he buys more fiber. His commission of 20 percent is well earned as he knows the market and sells only for the prices he wants.

So the hat bodies, straight from Juan the weaver are then purchased by Segundo who has a nice hat blocking business. Segundo could buy five or ten hat bodies at a time or even hundreds of hat bodies of different qualities at a time. Whatever, from there the hat body transcends the steps below until it is a finished Panama hat.

The hat bodies which Segundo the hat blocker purchased from Juan the weaver, are actually not pretty sites. They are either a cone shaped entity or indeed a very rough bucket like outline of a hat. The fibers from which it was woven stick out of the raw brim like a beard. Each fiber is a half a meter in length sticking out loosely from the brim. The hat body is covered with many fibers protruding at all angles, inside and out, which must be meticulously and individually trimmed off by hand, carefully, with a razor blade. You would never realize that in a week that this would be a Panama hat selling for $1,000.

The brim of each raw hat body must be trimmed of loose fibers and each individual fiber must be segregated and woven backwards over itself and its neighbors to prevent the weaves from fraying. This is called "back weaving" and is about 8 mm wide. This certainly is an art in itself and takes a fair amount of time to do. Back weaving is often contracted to be done in a special shop, contracted by Segundo the blocker or when Segundo has time, he back weaves at least some of his own.

This hat body, as you gathered that it is now called, is ready for "pummeling". One of Segundo's employees, a man in his mid 40s named Marcelo, (man with the mace!) gently manipulates the weave dispersion by precisely impacting it on a padded surface using a rounded wooden instrument as an impact tool. This is called pummeling and is done by artisans specifically skilled in this craft, to make the weaves settle in more regularly and the hat body therefore straightens and becomes more symmetrical in appearance. The word pummel in English refers to severe beating but this is hardly beating in the assumed sense. It is merely getting the weaves to sort of nestle in together and become more equal. Skill details this process of precision in-so-far-as no fibers are even close to being stressed or broken.

Next the hat body is bleached somewhat (not to a stark white as are some highland Panama hats) using burning sulfur (a natural product of this volcanic country). The hat body is hung and rotated in the burning sulfur fumes and this bleaches the fiber without hurting it. This also preserves a cream color and rids the hat of any irregular color areas. This is far superior to using harsh chlorine bleach solution which is used as a cheap batch soaking process as a quick fix in the highlands to bleach hat bodies. The caveat is that chlorine weakens (rots) the cellulose fibers just as in cotton, cellulose, nylon, polyester or rayon fibers in clothing.

Customers who really know their Panamas prefer little bleaching of any kind and prefer to see slightly different colors in the woven strands, giving the completed Panama hat in their view much more authenticity, character and personality. The more a person appreciates a good Panama, the less artificial process is desired.

After the bleaching process Segundo's shop washes the hat body in water and detergent. Soap and collected rainwater (no scum forms) works too. The hat body is rinsed in rainwater and dried in the sun in the back yard of Segundo's blocking shop.

"Select" hat bodies straight from the weavers, trimmed and ready to back weave the brims. Back weaving likewise is a painstaking art...less and less people each year are willing to do this tedious work. Imitation Montecristi Panamas are merely sewn on the brim which leaves unsightly rough ends which not only look bad but they catch on clothing and snag your hair.

Some shops, which purvey cheaper or lesser quality hats, typical of highland hats, add a little starch or white casein glue (like Elmer’s) to the rinse water as a "body maker" or stiffener to hold the block later, then the hat is dried in the sun. Most folks who really know their Panamas don't purchase hats which have been impregnated with stiffeners, knowing that the stiffer the hat the more likely it is to crack and tear in time instead of flex naturally. This is true because if the weave is bound together with a stiffener, the fibers really can't flex and move around when the hat is bent or pinched and the cellulose fibers break as a result of this bind. The fibers have to be left on their own to move and glide when the hat constantly flexes and vibrates in the wind or normal wear. Segundo's hats don't have stiffeners to preserve the block since the weaves of the hat bodies that he purchases are really tight and dense and don't need stiffeners in the first place. We usually buy our blocked Panamas from Segundo or at least have Segundo block the bodies which we buy, but the other blockers from whom we buy don't put stiffeners in the hats either. A stiffener can be felt as sort of a stickiness when the hat is very slightly moist and the hat doesn't have the silk like feel it should have. Stiffeners are added commonly to highland hats because the weave is loose and the stiffener compensates for that in retaining the block.

Here we're picking out hat bodies in Montecristi. Note the brims have raw ends and haven't been back woven yet, a function, in our case, of our blocker.

Ironing comes next in Segundo's shop. Alberto is the top hat ironer. The brim is moistened just a bit and Alberto irons it using a rather small old fashioned cast iron that is initially heated on a stove. Some hat blockers use electric irons but the majority such as Alberto use old fashioned cast iron ones. A piece of moist cloth is placed over the hat body and the resulting steam and pressure from the iron straightens the brim and crown, using among other things hand carved wooden forms as an ironing surface. Each form is for a different hat size and block style making for a LOT of forms!

Next the hat is brushed to remove any dust and to align the fibers a bit and the block itself is installed in the crown by placing the hat body on a block form (note two in background of photo) and ironing it using a moist cloth between the iron and the hat body in the same way the brim and crown were ironed. The fingers of a skilled blocker form the details as well and Segundo oversees literally all of the work, working himself on the hat block bench.

Finally the inner sweat band is trimmed to size by Segundo's sister Isabel and hand sewn in place with a needle and thread that matches the hat color, so as to make the stitches invisible from the outside of the hat. A decorative black outer band is cut from a ribbon of material by Monica, Segundo's niece, and is tied to form the bow. Monica sews the band into a continuous loop and slips it over the crown, its own slight tension holds it in place.

Segundo completely inspects each hat carefully, holding it up to the light and goes over it carefully, held 8 inches from his eyes, in filtered light. It will be sold with four others in Montecristi. We get a call from Segundo that he has another few hats and we bus over to Montecristi to take a look. Sure enough, in Segundo's tradition, we are impressed all the way around with three of his four hats and we settle on a price for the three. The forth just is too high priced for the quality so we leave that one for someone else. From there we offer the hats directly to our customers, no middle man. But often Segundo's hats and other blockers' hats are exported to a far away land by whatever buyer he sells to in Montecristi, either to be sold to you (as if you had purchased the hat from us) or to a wholesaler who would sell it to a dealer who would then sell it to you at two prices. Think about it, obviously, it is best to purchase from whom?

Epilogue
Possibly Pile's master weavers, such as Juan's ladies in the cooperative, go back to ancient mariners from Hawaii and other Polynesian maritime origins which spawned sailors in sail bearing large canoes (not Kon Tiki rafts, thank you) to have sailed to and traded commonly with Ecuadorian tribes people, even before the Incas. Some tribal names and words in the native dialect which still exist reflect this influx of Pacific culture, and the people often look not unlike Polynesians. Their ancient ceramics had definite Chinese influence as well. The Galapagos Islands (part of Ecuador) were just one of many way points along the atolls and the volcanic island chain, which the Polynesians used to navigate (using what was proven to be stick maps and stick star charts) to the shores of Central and South America. Ecuador is the first landfall in fact from Polynesia. Point finally being, weaving was not new to ancient Polynesians either, as they wove extremely fine articles from flax (plant fiber), and it is debatable as to who introduced whom to the art of plant fiber weaving....the Ecuadorians to the Polynesians or the Polynesians to the Ecuadorians. Possibly they both originated the art in their own respective cultures as well. But the coast of Ecuador was a pre-Incan trade center with Polynesia and arts and crafts were likely a bustling business for both sides of the pond. Woven articles likely made up some of the trade in both directions.

For whatever thought, for thousands of years these patient Native Ecuadorians produced fiber such as was produced by the family of Maria del Carmen and wove hats and articles of clothing from the long smooth paja toquilla fiber. What sets these people off from the rest is the incredible patience they have to produce one fino fino Panama hat every three or four or even five months for their entire lives until literally they can't move or see. It takes years to develop the skills necessary, hat after hat after hat, and it requires a very special culture and mind set to do it. A single hat at times represents nearly the total income of a family of six for three months. If this culture is ever lost, it will never return, ever; it's a one way street. Consequently it is important to preserve it as our own American heritage, far beyond buying and selling Panama hats, although the Panama hat business itself provides the vehicle of preservation of these ancient skills. We do this by purchasing their one product, Panama hat bodies. Slowly but surely the younger generations are loosing interest in hat weaving, going to computer and other technologies and venturing to other lands for more lucrative monetary futures, having to struggle here in a land of inflation and uncertainty. We are not trying to create hype but this may very well be the close of the era of the fino fino Panama hat. Most of the master weavers who are almost the only producers of fino finos are elderly or near elderly.