LONG days, crazy nights, the spring sun shining overhead – it’s the perfect time to wanker up by donning the headgear of rahs and chavs! But how to wear it?
Conventional, classic, and contemptible all at once, a baseball cap worn the expected way keeps every guessing. Are you famous? A mugger? Balding and old? Balding and old and famous? Nobody’s sure and frankly, given the average baseball cap wearer’s convictions for wounding with intent, nobody’s looking long enough to find out?
Original B-boys from the summer of ’88, unite! Let’s make suburban Volkswagen owners afraid for their badges again! The veterans of precinct breakdance have long since laid down their lino, so the only homies wearing snapbacks ass-back are trust fund wannabe Banksys in Chelsea & Kens! Big up the didn’t-get-the-grades-for-Oxbridge crew!
Keep everyone guessing; style, or knocked that way in a collision with a Deliveroo that left you with concussion? Gangster or wanker? Challenging the orthodoxy or trying to imply ownership of a Vauxhall Corsa modded-up from Halfords? Either way, you’ll give the impression you struggle with the law as much as you do with vowel sounds!
Just because it’s head-shaped doesn’t mean you have to push the mother down. Go the millennial route and let your hat ride your head like a pumped-up little US bandit controlling your every thought and action, even though it’s actually Insta holding the reins! Careful not to lose it in high winds, dickhead!
The Yankees hat is almost as despised over here as the Yankees are over there, so get deep. Whether Toronto Raptors, Oakland A’s, San Juan Chupacabras, Nebraska Pudfuckers, Maryland Cookies, Ford Lauderdale Fentanyls or Tampa Bay Shitbirds, go for obscure sports and cities. Which franchise is this cool dude even advertising?
With all stickers still attached
‘Shoplifted this bad boy,’ you tell anyone who glances your way on the Tyne and Wear Metro train to Cullercoats. ‘Yeah. That’s right. I’m an authentic badman.’ And with that shiny black-and-gold still affixed jauntily to the brim, and those boxfresh tags a-dangling, who would dare guess your Auntie Rhona bought it from JD Sports for your birthday?