I approached prototyping with a set of loose sketches, functional goals for the product, and list of material requirements. The hat should be 1) water-repellant 2) stowable and 3) comfortable. For my intents and purposes, this meant deconstructing a Gore-Tex jacket for the shell and lining (because buying it new, by the meter, isn’t cost effective), a zipper, and a flexible, rubberized wire to maintain the Non-Ia’s structure that was also easily malleable.
Parts of the project were frustrating. I spent a lot of time trying to organize my approach to an unprecedented sewing procedure, the stitches are not razor straight like I’d prefer, next time I might not add a zipper, etc. I could continue, but I am, nevertheless, pleased with the first generation of the tech-wear Non-Ia.
The Non-Ia’s theme is inspired by the traffic cones that littered Rottman Parking Garage. Toronto’s winter had forced me to skateboard on the lowest floor of a parking garage in the downtown. It was there I became acquainted with the city’s skate community. Every time I descended the stairwell entrance to this refuge I was bathed in the sweet smells of urine, spray-paint, and marijuana, accompanied by the inevitable noise made by between ten and thirty skaters (depending on the night). I found different variants of the ramshackle obstacles positioned by my peers every time because there was turnover. Sometimes twice in an evening, garage security or the police would clear us out and deconstruct our ‘architectural interjections’ on the 3rd floor. This included taking the traffic cones that mysteriously reappeared upon every visit. You can have a lot of fun with a traffic cone, and I appreciated the consistent reappearance. As the winter progressed, it slowly gained status as a symbol for the community I’d found an escape from the storm, and a joke. But what makes the joke better is the truth. I met many characters there, among them, an especially memorable gentleman that I found out, would steal traffic cones from all around the city, multiple days a week, and bring them, like a bird building a nest, to our garage.
The security guards had amassed an impressive collection, I hear.
