I work in a mall, so I see a lot of people walk past me wearing clothes that would make Lady Gaga tip her Kermit hat in approval. After four years of this, I consider myself lucky if half the people I see are wearing clean shirts and pants (the pants don’t even have to be clean, I’d just like them to be on).
No party is more guilty of these horrendous displays of peacocking than mall rats. They are not the only culprits, far from it. But since they’re here all the time, I can verify that their wardrobes are the things of 50s sitcom parents’ nightmares.
But I’m not calling out mall rats, although I probably should. I’m calling out people who wear a certain accessory. A certain hat. And actually, I could complain about the animal hat craze that’s blitzkrieging its way into the norm, but I’m worried a swarm of young girls with wolf hats will converge upon me, hungry for blood (if you think that’s a sexual thing, you are on the wrong website, please go back to 4Chan).
No, the hat in question is none other than the fedora.
There are only two kinds of people who look good in fedoras: classy men in the 1930s and people who dress up like said classy men. There is no longer a person alive who can casually wear a fedora without looking like a douchbag. And that’s an awful thing.
In the same way that hipsters ruined facial hair, people trying to look as cool as even the most asinine gangster or ironically imitating the mental health case Charlie Sheen have ruined the fedora. This was a hat that easily could have aged like a fine wine, best appreciated in small portions many years later. It could have been the MVP of hats. No longer!
The classy gents of today know not to wear fedoras. They know it is too sacred a cranium covering to he tainted with today’s fashion sense. And sadly, that leaves the humanity with this…