Who Makes Those Kidnapping Hoods?

Binging, eBay and Louis XIV

Hubby and I like to gorge on action-genre TV shows: Fauda, Ozark, Jack Ryan…

We’re in the middle of an intense scene. A bad guy throws a black hood over Jack Ryan’s head. Instead of worrying about the lead character’s fate, I blurt, “Who do you think makes those kidnapping hoods? Obviously, for a TV show it’s the costume department. But where do kidnappers buy those hoods?”

Hubby shrugs. This is a new consideration for him too.

I continue, “Do you think kidnappers learn how to sew, go to Joanne’s Fabrics and order a roll of black fabric?”

“And why black?” hubby says, “Why not dark brown?”

“Maybe black is cheaper? And I would guess the kidnapper specifies polyester. Something itchy.”

“Maybe their wives sew the edges.”

“Wives? You think terrorists get married? That sounds like an oxymoron. ‘Honey, let’s get hitched and steal a human. Now, sew together two layers of fabric on three sides. Use a pillowcase as your pattern.’”

“That’s a smart terrorist who knows about sewing patterns.”

“Maybe there are little old ladies who are forced to sew them. A cottage industry of kidnapper hoods! Or they’re sold on eBay. ‘Black Hood for Your Next Kidnapping; Polyester, Made Purposely Uncomfortable and Difficult to Breathe; Comes in 3 Sizes, Buy Now, $4.99. Kidnapping a family? Inquire about our wholesale bundles. Scented hoods in stock.’ Didn’t Kim Kardashian wear something similar to the Met Gala?”

I’m on a roll.

“Maybe, there was once a good Samaritan seamstress who purposely used a lightweight rayon so the victim could see through the fabric and point out the perp in a line up,” I take a breath, rethink that last line. “Nah, terrorists don’t end up in a line up. They become guest speakers at Harvard.”

Hubby has been grinning at me. He paused the show at “costume department.” Is he bothered that I interrupted his binge ecstasy? (Binge-tasy?)

Hubby knows—if you can’t beat me, join me. “Maybe the fancy terrorists are well funded ---"

“Yes! Designer kidnapping hoods.”

“We use Prada remnants that fell off the back of a truck,” hubby says in his best Sopranos, NY accent.

“There should be an exhibit of kidnapper hoods in elaborate frames with museum labels— ‘J. Paul Getty’s Grandson’s kidnapping hood. Black corduroy. Circa 1973.’ Or, ‘Patty Hearst’s kidnapping hood. Burlap. Circa 1974.’ Dang. The early ‘70s was a busy time for those hoods.”

We giggle.

I change the subject. “How does an MI6 agent question a spy if he doesn’t speak the language? Maybe there’s a handbook written in seventy languages called, ‘How to Interrogate a Spy.’”

Hubby eyes the TV. Hint hint.

“Back to our previously scheduled program?”

“That’d be good,” he says.

Footnotes:

I Googled, “Earliest Known Kidnapping Hood.”

“Hood” was the only word highlighted in the Google search. Here is my paraphrased explanation-- During the reign of King Louis XIV, a mysterious man was imprisoned. His crime unknown. Rumors arose and his story would be later fictionalized in books and Hollywood movies. “The Man in the Iron Mask” sported a black velvet covering, not iron. (At least it was a cozy, soft velvet.)

This would be my fictional Wikipedia:

The earliest known kidnapping hood was found at an archeological site dating back to 1199 during the reign of Genghis Kahn. The hood likely belonged to one of his henchmen who wasn’t good to his mother.

Let’s chat:

1.     What’s your favorite TV show to binge? (Always need recommendations)

2.     Do you know how to sew?

3.     Does Kim Kardashian have butt implants? (But-plants?)