There are few problems a hat can’t fix. It can hide bad bangs and grown-out quarantine haircuts. It can help disguise oneself in public. As my unwashed hair and I slowly return to society, I am asking myself an important question: Am I prepared to let hats become my entire personality? If you too wish to embark on this Hat Girl journey, fasten your fedora and come with me.
Who can be a Hat Girl?
Hat Girls, like hats themselves, come in all different kinds. The queen? She’s a Fancy Hat Girl. Samantha from Sex and the City? A Horny Hat Girl. Have you ever seen Santa without a hat? A Seasonal Hat Girl through and through.
Which hat is the hat for me?
There is a hat for every occasion: baseball hats, bucket hats, trucker hats, top hats, itty-bitty costume hats. There are giant floppy hats to help you knock over drinks at brunch. There are chef hats for when you need to whip up a quick ratatouille, cowboy hats to embrace your yeehaw energy, visors for volleyball and becoming Guy Fieri. All hats are good hats, except for the pink mesh newsboy hat I asked my grandma to get me in 2004. That was heinous on every level.
What do I want my hat to say?
With so much happening everywhere all the time, I find myself yearning for something simple, something distracting, something I can point to and say, “Oh, this? It’s just my very prominent hat.” Remember that one time Pharrell wore a huge hat to the Grammys and it was all we talked about for weeks? I am not just looking for a statement piece — I want my hat to be the whole conversation.
When can I be a Hat Girl?
Time is a concept Hat Girls needn’t abide. It is summer whenever you wear a sun hat. It is the 1800s if you put on a stovepipe hat. Halloween starts whenever you wear a witch’s hat and ends when you take it off because someone was like, “Isn’t it August?” Besides, keeping track of time is for Watch Guys. So I guess the real question is do you want to live your life with regrets, or do you want to wear a big cool hat?