Dorothy Jean: The Original Maker

Every maker has a beginning. Mine was my mother, Dorothy Jean. She’s been gone for 22 years now. She was 74 when she passed—far too young for someone who still had ideas left to try and materials left to transform. She was the most creative person I’ve ever known, and always will be.

Mom didn’t believe you needed perfect supplies. She believed you needed vision. She could walk into a thrift store and walk out with possibility. Fabric scraps became clothing. Yarn became art. A backyard became a masterpiece of flowers.

She taught me to sew when I was six years old. By the time I reached seventh grade, I was making my own clothes and wearing them to school like I owned the runway. One outfit still makes me laugh—a bold patchwork set with giant colorful squares, matching pants and jacket, and a red, black, and white carpet purse I made myself. I wore it three times a week, proudly standing at the bus stop like I was headed somewhere important.

She never told me to stop. She let me experiment. She let me stand out. She let me become who I was becoming, whoever that was ;-)

Mom was a teacher by profession, working with elementary students and as an SLBP teacher helping kids who needed patience and belief. She loved it. She saw potential in people, especially the ones who didn’t see it in themselves yet.

She also taught me mosaics, fiber art, painting, and how to appreciate jewelry—both fine and costume. She was an incredible knitter, though I never quite followed her there. Her sweaters were works of art. I still have them.

She was a gardener whose backyard looked like a painting. She loved dogs—especially Basset Hounds and Labs—but honestly, she loved them all.

She was tall. Elegant. Fearless in conversation. And she had a sense of humor that made everything lighter.  We laughed constantly. We crafted constantly. And when we weren’t doing that, we were at thrift stores—digging, sorting, hunting for the piece that had been overlooked by everyone else.

She taught me how to see value where others didn’t.

When she passed, it was the hardest day I’ve ever lived through. But she never stopped being part of my work.

Her photo travels with me in my Fabulous Firefly trailer and lives in my studio. She’s still present in every creative decision, every experiment, every risk.

The Dorothy Jean Hats on this site come directly from her. From the materials she left behind. From her craft room. From her life.

They aren’t just hats. They’re a continuation.

She taught me to use what we had. To trust my instincts. To make something meaningful.

Everything I create carries a little bit of her with it.

She was the original maker.

And she still is. I love you Mom.