In case the sweltering, will-destroying swamp-heat hadn't already tipped you off, it is now officially summer, and that means one thing: Dipshits worldwide have started wearing straw hats in an effort to recast their personality. This is basically the warm-weather version of the ill-fitting trench coat, and yet nevertheless tons of people somehow think it's a classy and distinguished way to showcase their zaniness. Honestly, unless you are an elderly black or Italian man, wearing a straw hat makes you look like you're in the horn section of a third-wave ska band at best, and at worst the parking lot of a Jimmy Buffet concert. Especially if you're a girl.
Actually, this applies to all brimmed hats equally. Every one of them has got to go: Trilbies, fedoras, pork-pies, bowlers, billycocks, fishing hats--Jesus, even their names are completely affected and lame.
If you've already resigned yourself to carrying around a piece of personality equipment everywhere you go and finding somewhere to set it down any time you need to scratch your permanently itchy head, you might as well carry around pocketwatch and a racing schedule and some hybrid lapdog named Mr. Pleasetalktome. At least that would be honest, instead of sitting in the window of Café Read in a hat and fucking cargo shorts pretending it didn't take you half an hour at the mirror to decide whether or not you could "pull it off."
The only person who can get away with a brimmed hat is our own Eddy Moretti, and he only gets grandfathered in because he's been wearing his so long that it would be less unsettling to see him walking around with his balls hanging out through his zipper than with a bare head. Also, his hat doesn't look like shit because it was bought at some fancy Italian hatter's that caters to old Italians instead of from a stall on Ludlow Street.
So, sort of a mixed message on putting effort into your appearance I guess, but whatever: No hats unless you're Eddy. Or a bull-rider.