What Every Hat Says About You

Hats- It is often said that the hat makes the man, although little is known about which hat makes which man. Allow me to take the guesswork out of this hat + man = personality? equation for you. Here is the definitive guide to every type of hat, as well as what each hat says about you:

Flat-Brim Standard Yankees Hat: HOV made the Yankee hat more famous than the Yankee’s game, and you’re making that Italian accent more pronounced than it really is. Thank you for ensuring The Bronx/Staten Island/Harlem remains the home of wife beaters, untucked chains, off-putting bravado, being proud of working as a meat slicer at a deli, and loudmouthed douchebags.

Beret: Oui, oui, pushover, scarf-wearing guy who spent one semester in France or girl who kept her nose down in a Madeline book as her peers were out experimenting with drugs. Nobody in France actually wears this stupid nipple hat. Okay, if you’re a mime who survives off busking, feel free to wear a beret. Everyone else, stop it immediately.

Naruto Headband: You sprint through the hallways of your school bent over at a 45-degree angle, your arms held upwards behind your back, moving so quickly that you can’t see any of the phone cameras trained in your direction. You have poor hygiene and dandruff and are famous for an *incident* on the bus which caused all other riders to poke their heads out the windows like dogs to prevent themselves from gagging. There is a 50% chance that you somehow clutched a weird, yet hot autistic gamer girlfriend just by being your unapologetically weird self.

Straw Fedora­: Oh snap, watch out, somebody is in line to do the limbo, even though their barking, post-op knee definitely isn’t going to let them make it past the second round. This fedora is reserved for white dads in strappy sandals and cargo shorts on tropical vacations. “Hey Mamacita, mind if a gringo speaks a little ES PAN YOL tonight?”

“I’ve danced salsa before, if you count the cha-cha slide.”

*Shouts “This one’s for Jimmy Buffett!” before taking a long sip of a margarita and then cannonballing into the pool on a Norwegian cruise liner trip from St. Pete to Jamaica*

Top Hat w/Feather: “Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the amazing, incomparable, mysterious, rapey, death-defying, probation-applying, MAGIC MARKUS!”

*A few claps, mostly silence*

*The parents hosting the birthday party turn to look at one another. They are struggling to keep blank, innocuous expressions on their faces so as not to alarm any of the other parents. The wife leans in to the husband and in a stern whisper asks, “Did he just say ‘rapey?’ I thought we ran a background check on this guy. He’s seeking probation? For what!?”*

*Magic Markus appears suddenly out of a poof of smoke. Neck tattoos are visible for all to see. A streak of recently dried blood runs down from his left nostril to his lip*

“WHICH ONE OF YOU LITTLE SHITS IS READY TO GET SKULL FUCKED BY SOME MAGIC!??? YOU SEE THIS RABBIT?? I’M GONNA EAT IT!! AGGGGHHH!!!!!”

*Kids scatter in all directions, screaming*

Propeller Hat: You’re somehow worse than a Disney adult. You are a Pixar adult. You don’t have a child, but you don’t let that stop you from catching the global premiere of every new animated release in theaters. You have a developmental disability.

Monster Energy Cap: You and your scumbag cousin ride dirt bikes without helmets in the woods behind your rural Western Massachusetts home. Your face bears the signature features of fetal alcohol syndrome. You run a semi-successful YouTube wrestling competition in your backyard called Savage Scraps with matches such as, “Midgets versus Fatties XXXVI” and “Pregnant women, UNLEASHED!”. Your scumbag cousin who you ride dirt bikes with became paralyzed from the neck down after failing to execute a flying tornado elbow from the rooftop on the last episode of Savage Scraps.

Loose-Fitting Beanie: You run a holistic eastern medicine healing shop in downtown Los Angeles that promises to cure chronic illnesses with ashwaganda and CBD. You preach about “finding yourself” and “spiritual awakening” on your Instagram story but everyone close to you knows that you failed out of a community college, so this is kind of your only option.

Puffy Newsboy Cap: They make you smear your face with soot and wear this hat at your shoe-shining gig on Wall Street. Either that or you have a gross benign mass on your skull that you are trying to keep hidden.

Cookie Monster Hat: You won’t rest until you’ve huffed all the computer duster in Pittsburgh. You live in flannel pajama bottoms and cook beans and dope on the same camping stove in the alley next to Primanti Bros.

Plastic 6-Pack Rings: One day you swam over to investigate this shiny thing in the water and next thing you knew, you were wearing it as a hat! You and your friend John with the plastic straw nose piercing are the only people you know who wear anything other than just a shell.