Let me just say it: I cannot wear a baseball cap. I have tried. Many times. Some people throw on a baseball cap and look instantly cool. I put one on and look like a dad who’s lost his kids in the middle of a crowded theme park.
It’s not for lack of trying. I’ve tested all kinds — the flat-brim ones, the curved brim, and even the “dad hats” everyone used to speak of. The moment that cap touches my head, something happens. My whole vibe shifts from “maybe stylish adult” to “confused man asking where the bathroom is.” I’m convinced my posture changes too, and I start walking like I have a map in my back pocket. I wouldn’t be surprised if I suddenly develop an urge to say things like, “Let’s circle back to the snack station.”
It’s frustrating. Because there’s this pressure to “pull things off.” You see someone wearing something while looking so effortless, and you think, “I could do that too.” And then truth hits you as you look in the reflection. Sometimes the thing you’re trying to pull off just pulls you down instead.
It’s also wild how trends will trick you into thinking they’re “for everyone.” A celebrity wears a hat, and we all think we should give it a try. We often overlook the fact that celebrities have stylists and often possess great bone structure. I have neither of those things. I have a head and hope. And hope is not enough.
It’s a humbling moment, but that’s okay.
We’re not all meant to wear the same things. Some people are Hat People. I am not one of them. I am at peace with this now. My head just isn’t a hat head. It’s more of a… hoodie and sunglasses head. Or a “stay in the shade and avoid attention” head.
So next time you see me in a baseball cap, be gentle. And maybe check if I’ve lost a child.
