“When I was a kid, there’d be my dad’s and my grandpa’s sombreros everywhere, and I didn’t really understand what was going on, or pay much attention to it.”

Watching Rubin cut and pull a square of pristine felt into an elegantly battered hat, it seems he’s come a long way from that confused kid in his father’s workspace.

Alberto Hernandez, as Rubin is formally known, takes a quick break from endless orders at Nick Fouquet Hat Maker.  He greets us with a mood befitting the Venice home, where the kitchen sits adjacent to the showroom.

Rubin, in his handmade apron of repurposed denim and Hawaiian shirt, leads me to the backroom.   Dirt, sawdust, and steam hang in the afternoon air.  He’s in the middle of a multitask.