Do a Google search for "1920s baseball crowd" and you'll find some wonderful things: The innocence of a bygone era, a haunting reminder of our mortality and a lot of guys wearing hats. Hats, for crying out loud.
I'm kind of pissed off at John F. Kennedy.
After all, he is blamed for killing the hat within American culture. We used to wear some hats until the election of 1960 came along and Kennedy wanted to show off his chock of thick, Irish hair and, BOOM, no one else wanted a hat either. I mean, it's not like it got less sunny or we suddenly suffered less from bad hair days – it simply lost favor.
Years ago on an elevator – I remember it like it was yesterday – a gentleman got on and was wearing a nice suit ... and a beautiful hat. A black suit with a black fedora with a feather. I found myself having an instant man-crush on this guy and even managed to stammer out a complement, "Great hat." I was smitten and vowed to become a hat wearer.
And no, baseball caps are not "hats."
But it's tough wearing a hat. You feel like some geeky fashionista the first time you try it on. This is new territory. It's not like your father taught you how. My father was 17 in 1960 and much preferred the hatless Kennedy style. So, you're left to figure it out for yourself.
I have been bolstered as of late, though, seeing the hat's popularity make a small return. I got a hat for Father's Day this year and each time I wear it, I get complements. I'm becoming more comfortable and am feeling my way through the hat world.
I invite you to join me. Maybe as a celebratory gesture for the Brewers postseason, we can all buys hats and go to the ballpark. At least the hat will be a hell of a lot cheaper than the seat. Go Brewers!
