Building a fashion brand around a single, recognisable item has always been a gamble. When that item happens to sit neatly inside a broader trend cycle, the risk is amplified: what happens when the moment passes? As sailor silhouettes and uniform dressing resurface across recent collections from Chanel and Prada, as well as numerous Jean Paul Gaultier archival transformations, the sailor hat has become one of the season’s most visible accessories – a focus that, in another context, could read as opportunistic.
However, for Robyn Salt of Salt Hats, who specialises in one-of-a-kind custom sailor hats, the timing was a coincidence rather than a strategy. “It just so happened to be right on the cusp of the runway revival,” she says about the serendipitous timing of her brand’s launch.
Salt grew up in Stockport, just outside Manchester. “Funnily, it’s where a lot of hats used to be made,” she says. “I feel like I’ve come back to my ancestral home.” From as early as the 17th century, Stockport emerged as a centre for felt hat-making, with local artisans shaping fur and wool into headwear centuries before mechanised production. By the 20th century, the town had become synonymous with Britain’s felt hat trade, sustaining an ecosystem of block-makers, trimmers, and milliners.
It’s gone full circle, I went right back to Stockport where it all began, where I was trying to get away from all those years ago, but now it feels like the right time to be here.
At 17, Salt left the North West for London to study performance art, later moving to Barcelona to teach English, before returning to Greater Manchester two years ago. “It’s gone full circle, I went right back to Stockport where it all began, where I was trying to get away from all those years ago, but now it feels like the right time to be here,” she reflects. At 32, there’s a sense of settled conviction in her decision. “I feel I can be a grown-up, and I can be confident in what I’ve decided to do.”
Training at the Central School of Speech and Drama expanded her creative range, particularly through one-person performances. Yet she left feeling uncertain about the future, moving to Barcelona with no fixed plan. Outside of the classroom, she began sharing her lifelong love of vintage online, which soon evolved into a small online shop and a close-knit community of fellow sellers. The influence from her friendships there still surfaces in her studio today. While working, she says she “can not stop blasting LUX by Rosalía at the moment, a little Barcelona call back.” She laughs that the intensity can be overwhelming. “She is an emotional visionary. I cry when I’m sewing sometimes, though.”
There is something slightly offbeat about the things that capture Salt’s attention. “Two things I have always been really drawn to are clown costumes, and old Navy and sailor uniforms,” she says. Her theatre background sharpened an interest in how clothing constructs character, pairing the unruly humour of clown attire with the severity and repetition of naval dress.
When she first encountered the sailor hats made by Charles Jeffrey LOVERBOY, something clicked. “I waited and waited until it went on sale, and I bought one, and it didn’t leave my head,” she laughs. Around the same time, Salt had her eye on a holy-grail piece she’d been saving on Pinterest for years: “I always wanted the Jean Paul Gaultier denim hat with big brass eyelets.” When she spotted one for sale in Los Angeles for £400 – money she didn’t have – sewing became her solution. “I started making hats purely because I wanted that hat,” she explains.
There’s an element of honouring a tradition in [Salt Hats]. I’m twisting the traditional and keeping these really personalised elements in each hat.
Growing up in a house where second-hand clothes were frequently bought and altered to fit by her seamstress mother meant deconstruction felt intuitive. She reverse-engineered a pattern based loosely on her LOVERBOY hat and thrifted samples, made her own version, and began wearing it constantly. She appears on our Zoom call wearing one of her earliest designs, which she admits to be “nothing like” the scrupulous quality of her hats now.
Today, Salt’s work is defined by a paradoxical simplicity. “I am making one product, one style, yet every single one is so different,” she explains. Nearly all her output over the past year has been made-to-order. Each hat begins with the same uniform-derived structure borrowed directly from vintage sailor hats, but subtly modernised through material, colour and finish. “There’s an element of honouring a tradition in it,” she says. “I’m twisting the traditional and keeping these really personalised elements in each hat.”
Fabric choice is integral to that process: Salt shops exclusively second-hand, making decisions through tactile discovery. “I feel everything,” she reveals. She gravitates toward tartans, tweeds and mohairs, materials that carry history and wear well over time. She admits she’s on a ban from buying more, and turning her attention to organising her vast archive, with only staples like corduroy in black and navy being intentionally restocked.
Each client is guided through fabric and detail choices, transforming the headwear into a personal wardrobe staple. While each design is imbued with its own sense of history thanks to her meticulous material choices, some hats stand out to the milliner: pink velvet with a large fastened bow for Kitty Lever; a collaboration with jewellery designer El Hoskyns featuring their hand pressed silver buttons as buttons; trend forecaster Mandy Lee’s Simone Rocha x Jean Paul Gaultier SS24 recreation for London Fashion Week.
I have to remind myself often that [the trend] is not why I started my brand. These hats were already a staple for me, just not my own designs, but my interest was there long before the trend began.
“If you’re buying a custom hat, I think being able to pick and choose what it is you want, whether it’s the fabric or the details, whatever gives you a connection to something that outlasts the trend, is so important,” she explains. That deliberate pacing sits quietly at odds with trend cycles, something she is acutely aware of. “I feel very conflicted about it,” she says of navigating visibility during a moment of heightened demand.
While she acknowledges that trends create exposure but lack longevity, she views trends as a tool for discovery, just as her first sailor hat was for her. “I have to remind myself often that [the trend] is not why I started my brand. These hats were already a staple for me, just not my own designs, but my interest was there long before the trend began,” she asserts. “What I hope I’m doing with my brand is encouraging people to be really considered with their fashion purchases.”
Her sustainable approach extends beyond individual orders. Midway through last year, Salt connected with Pristine founder Katherine Hewitson, and the pair conceptualised a collaborative collection rooted in shared values. Using offcuts from Pristine’s satin bias-cut dresses, she developed hats designed to accompany the garments. “We’re using the scraps that otherwise just wouldn’t have a use,” she says. “The time and effort that Kathryn has put into just checking in and being a present person, helping me navigate things that I didn’t have experience in before, has been amazing.”
The collaboration launched on Boxing Day and can be pre-ordered directly from Pristine’s online store. When asked who she can imagine in the collection, she doesn’t hesitate. “The one and only nanny, Fran Fine,” she says. “I can see Fran Fine in the entire matching ensemble, Pristine’s Sailor Dress (the mini version) and Salt Hat’s Sailor Hat, with a black pointed-toe heel, or maybe she’d mix and match the colourways.” As for who she’d love to see wearing her designs in real life, Salt’s answer appears instinctive rather than industry-minded: “Chloë Sevigny all day every day, or Enya Umanzor,” she says.
If and when the sailor hat’s virality fades, Salt sees possibility rather than threat. “Maybe that’s an opportunity to venture somewhere new, or learn a new skill,” she says. Her affection for hats has expanded well beyond sailor styles, fuelled by a growing personal collection spanning decades. “I think a lot about headbands, actually,” she muses, citing a white pleated satin style from the 1940s she owns. “I just love the power move of a headpiece that adds height.”
Much like her career journey thus far, what comes next remains intentionally open. “I don’t have an exact trajectory for the future just yet,” she says. “But I feel confident that if the space opens up after this big trend wave passes, it might open another door to something else, and I’ll do a bit more exploring, which is a nice thought.”
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