About Us
An interview with dedicate's founder and designer, T. Williams
Why did you create dedicate?
Originally, from a desire to make an authentic, patch trucker hat that represented the lifestyle I’d chosen in Wyoming, in California, and some other places around the country. In 2005, I was living on Teton Pass (part of Highway 22 that crosses the Teton Range). I had a lot of local pride living on the Pass: To me it meant earning your turns, not paying to ride ski lifts, which I was too broke to afford, anyway. It meant riding powder in solitude, not with the lemmings at the resort. So I made the first 22 design for myself and my neighbors, people dedicated to the Pass, and I sold it in a couple of locals-only spots like the Stagecoach Bar. Today, the 22 hats really signify all of Teton County. But for some of us, 22 will always mean the Pass.
I designed the first three dedicate hats at the same time. The other two were the Colorado and Vermont designs, which are both places that I love and I wanted to keep coming back to, and keep discovering. And it spread from there, to Alaska, then California, Washington State, New Mexico, Montana and Arizona, for all the same reasons. There are still a lot of places left on my list.
Why revive the trucker hat?
The patch-front, mesh-back hat is an American icon. It’s an indispensable piece of apparel for the kind of people who live a self-reliant, sometimes physically demanding, existence. Farmers wear them; truckers wear them. The mesh keeps your head cool when you’re working, and the brim protects you from the sun. It’s made to function and it’s a symbol of a rugged way of life.
In the late nineties, the trucker hat got hijacked by the Euros at Von Dutch and Ed Hardy. They made it ironic, not iconic. Trucker hats got bedazzled and were being made in cute colors; they were getting a bad name. With dedicate, I wanted to take back the trucker hat for people who live hard, work hard and play hard in the outdoors. It’s not really a fashion accessory, it’s a piece of apparel that gets beaten up, chewed up and worn ‘til it’s dead.
Who wears dedicate?
Fisherman in Alaska … smoke jumpers in California … ski patrollers in Vermont … The hats are generally worn by pretty authentic folk who are a legit part of these places, whether it’s Tom Burt (pro snowboarder) guiding up in the Chilkat, Alaska, or Rusty Dewess, aka The Logger (Vermont’s backwoods thespian). There’s a distinguishing look to the hats that locals tend to claim as their own. The designs don’t state the obvious, like printing “Colorado” right under the Colorado flag. They’re not souvenir hats, and that’s why they work. There’s also an audience of people who travel. New Yorkers, Scandinavians, Germans, whoever—all kinds of people who pass through these terrains and are changed or inspired by them. They’re dedicated, too. And they want to bring that feeling home, and keep it in their daily life.
What’s behind the style of the dedicate hat?
There was a time when people actually sewed in this country and manufacturing actually occurred here. But nowadays you can hardly find that going on. Everything is all machine-embroidered and totally automated. My initial concept was to bring back hats with hand-sewn patches because the true look of a trucker or farmer hat is a mesh back and a patch in front—what an old timer would be wearing at the general store or a farmer’s co-op.
Plus, I’ve always been obsessed with broken-in hats that look like they’ve been well worn. This was part of me growing up as a ball player who idolized old-time players like Ted Williams. All my team caps were made with buckram backing, which is engineered to keep a perfect, rigid crown. It was practically impossible to break them in. Usually, I’d soak a hat in water, put a wet towel over my hat, and wear it with water dripping down, bleeding ink on me. Sometimes, I’d just cut the buckram out of the hats altogether. Also, I always loved Westerns, so I dig cowboy hats—especially the idiosyncrasies of a worn-in hat that’s stained and ringed with blood, sweat and chaw spit. That’s integral to the look of the hat: Most cowboys, like most ball players, want a hat that looks like it’s a part of their head.
When did dedicate fitted hats come into the picture?
For me, there are kind of two type of hat wearers. There’s the collector, sneakerhead type, who has a whole quiver of hats. They like to keep a hat as clean and crisp as possible. Street culture has always been about wearing a hat so fresh it’s still got the hang tag on it. BBoy culture in the 80s was all about trucker hats—the blank foam trucker hat, not the patch hat—they were box-fresh clean and worn balanced high up on the head. Nowadays, everyone in NYC wears a 59-50 with the sticker on it. It’s like keeping a car, stock, you don’t want to diminish the value.
The second school has their one hat that they wear, day in and out, and it looks like it’s been through a war. Originally, I was a part of that school. But as I got into making the hats, I began to appreciate the clean look, because I had access to hundreds of hats, so I always had a fresh hat to wear. My own look evolved, because it wasn’t about wearing one hat any more. So I adapted dedicate to both schools. I try to design the hats so they look really good, whether brand new or beaten down.
What’s your design philosophy?
One, it’s all in the details. That’s what sets our products apart. I’ve always designed the hats from scratch, whereas a lot of brands use blank hats that are already made, and they decorate them with embroidery. When you’re making something from scratch, it’s an opportunity to make every part of that design come together. There are details in the look and the functionality of a dedicate hat that people won’t even understand ‘til after they’ve been wearing it for months or even years, and those kind of discoveries give people pleasure, and pride in ownership.
Two, dedicate follows a strict no-branding etiquette. To me, a product should stand out on its own without any branding. The look of it should be enough to distinguish it. And in the case of a flag hat, for instance, there’s really no place for branding, anyway. For the most part, I’m into minimalizing any decorating, really, just letting the construction stand on its own.
High-end luxury fashion doesn’t put tags on the outside of everything. It’s just not classy. But casual wear has evolved so that there are logos and branding on everything, even if it’s a little tag. I don’t think that’s what people want any more. It’s not clean. In fact, it’s just plain superficial to wear a corporate logo. You’re a mark, literally, a sucker, if you’re willing to spend money to sport things that advertise products. It’s one thing if you’re a farmer wearing a John Deere hat. That makes sense, because you live and die by your tractor. Same thing goes whether it’s a chainsaw or a surfboard, because it does say something about you. But when it’s an apparel company, like Hollister for instance, that doesn’t really say anything about you. A Nike hat doesn’t really have any meaning in terms of expressing a part of what you are or what you’re into. Maybe that you’re athletic. But it’s a non-choice. It’s a missed opportunity because everything you wear should be stylish or reflect something about you.
What do people get from wearing dedicate?
The common feedback I get is, “Everybody is talking about my hat,” or, “ Strangers stop me on the street to ask me about it.” Friends always tell me stories about some situation that their hat created. Because there’s a familiarity. You see a 22 hat and you skip over all the other bullshit conversations to talk about the Tetons. Just like a major league baseball hat does similar things for fans—they’ll right away start talking to you about what’s happening with the team. A dedicate hat creates instant connection and intimacy around a place that you are passionate about, and connection and intimacy are two of the biggest things missing in our lives. That’s part of the problem with us wearing corporate logos on our clothing for the last couple of decades. There’s nothing to talk about there. You want to talk about a company? About the material goods they make? Of course not. That’s superficial. Let’s talk about experiences, and what we’re passionate about.
How do you balance your passion for nature with your business, manufacturing and shipping products?
I spent the first year of R&D trying to find manufacturers in the US, but by the end of it, I realized all the places I contacted were going to take my order and send it overseas. I was never able to find anyone in the US who could do the kind of designs I wanted to make. At the same time, I also wanted to try and stick to the price range I myself could afford if I were buying it in a shop. If I had been able to make it in the States, they would have end up costing our customers 40 dollars. It is a quandary. I continue to work on making our products closer to home. Recently, with our T-shirt line, we’ve been able to produce a product that’s Made in America.
For now, the focus is on sustainability in terms of end-use. I want to make stuff that people value highly. My approach to sustainability is that everything you make, you make it so it’s a person’s favorite piece. It’s not disposable fashion, it’s something they’ll hold on to for as long as they possibly can. That’s partially why I made dedicate a limited edition company; to give our products value that increases over time, so they don’t end up in a landfill, or in the bottom of your sock drawer.
Making apparel in small quantities also works for the people who live in small mountain or beach towns where there are so few people, you need variety. You don’t want to walk into a bar wearing the same hat as the next guy or girl. Plus, I never wanted to get into a formula of cranking out the same designs over and over again; that’s just selling out.
Our primary goal is to move away from conventional textiles, especially ones that are environmentally intensive, and towards those which are renewable. We don’t want to outfit people at the expense of the earth we live on. And it’s an opportunity to add more layers to the story. If you can talk about the hemp in your shirt or the alpaca in your beanie and explain the benefits, it gives you even more pride in ownership and more possibilities for connection with other people.