A few weeks ago Liz showed me a picture of her grandfather wearing a gentleman’s hat. I don’t know why she did it, it was unprompted, I certainly didn’t ask to see her grandfather in a gentleman’s hat, she just passed me her phone and said wasn’t my abuelo handsome. “Sure, I’d fuck him,” I thought but played it cool and just said, “Yeah.” Next Liz said, “You know, you could pull off a hat,” and, like any man when told something about his looks by a woman, my ears perked up and I took immediate note, deciding then that it was time to become a hat guy.
Fast forward to yesterday when I was a guest on Barstool’s new hit show “Wine Walk,” where Liz took me hat shopping. We went down 5th Avenue (known for it’s shopping and fashion, midwesterners) and popped into a lovely little shop where they had all the hats your heart could desire. Flat caps, straw caps, felt caps, Mad Hatter hats, sailing hats, it was a regular hat bonanza. This is apropos of absolutely nothing but everyone working there was black, and that kinda surprised me, while all the customers were white. Just trying to set the scene, sorry if that offends. Anyway, we slip into your classic 90s movie makeover montage. I’m trying on good hats, trying on bad hats and being goofy, we’re laughing, sometimes I’m feeling myself in the mirror and sometimes I’m horrified by myself in the mirror, we’re doing twirls, the whole shebang.
Finally I settle on a hat. It’s felt, blue (NOT black as the internet has mistaken), and really makes my eyes pop. As I saunter over to the checkout, feeling like a gentleman, I couldn’t be happier with my decision and while their wasn’t a price tag, I was sure it was an understandably priced item. Well, that’s when they ring it up. I’ll give you some time to guess how much this bad larry costs………… pencils down, it was 400 dollars. Now I like this hat, I think I look good in it, but if we’re being perfectly honest I don’t 400 dollars like it. However, I’m not getting Pretty Woman’d, I won’t leave that store and leave the employees to crack jokes about the poor kid who thought he could afford one of their precious hats. Once you get to a register you’ve got no choice but to complete that purchase or look like an absolute fool. The more ludicrously priced an item is if the price is revealed at the register, the more likely I am to buy it. One thousand dollars for this white tshirt? Oh, didn’t realize it was on sale. Charge it! And that’s just when I’m alone, yesterday I had two cameras and a bunch of coworkers with me. I wasn’t about to let them think I couldn’t afford a four hundred dollar felt hat with a tear dropped crown. No siree.
So that’s the story of my new hat that everyone is making fun of. I like it, I’m a fan of my hat. As I mentioned, it makes my eyes pop and when you’ve had dead, gray eyes for the better part of a decade it’s nice to be reminded that they used to be a gorgeous blue. I walk down the street with leather jacket confidence as women stare and lust after me (the stares very well may be “does he really think he’s pulling that off” stares, but as long as they don’t verbalize their thoughts I get to choose my own adventure, and I choose to believe they’re “bet he’s got a big ol’ dick on him, would love to see it” stares).
You may like this hat, you may absolutely despise this hat, but you better get used to it because I’m a hat guy now. All sales were final, after all.