Showing posts with label curve the brim on your hat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label curve the brim on your hat. Show all posts

September 14, 2009

I don't get it ...



I turned 27 yesterday. I'm at that point in my life where I'm grappling, rather unsuccessfully, with life's bigger questions. Will the Toronto Blue Jays make the playoffs again? Will the Toronto Maple Leafs win the Stanley Cup during my lifetime? One question gnaws at my very being: why don't kids curve the brims of their hats? Perhaps I'm getting old. Perhaps I'm out of touch with high fashion. But this one flies right over my head.

I've always been a hat guy. When my older brother told me, upon entering high school, that hats could be worn in the halls, and in class, I knew that high school was where I wanted to be. Forever. I was the moron who took his grade nine and grade 10 yearbook photos wearing a ballcap.

I wore Seattle Mariners, Houston Astros, Colorado Avalanche, Toronto Maple Leafs, Nike, and, yes, even New York Yankees hats. I was young. Impressionable. I wish I could say I was experimenting with heavy drugs when I donned Yankee blue, but I've got no excuse. I find comfort in the fact that I wear Blue Jays colours, and only Blue Jays colours, now, in adulthood.

My point is, no matter what logo I rocked, the brim was curved. Always. I was known as the best brim curver in the land. Children marveled at the epicly curved brims on my hats. And that was before I discovered the Perfect Curve, which became my androstenedione. While my skills were on the decline, all I had to do was spend $4.50 USD and have my work done for me.

I missed the memo. I had to have. Because I just don't get it. I can't comprehend the flatness. I can't wrap my head around the flamboyant, over-the-top designs. It ain't right.

Look, I've been there. I wore the oversized clothes. My pants weren't falling off my ass, but sure, they were riding lower than they probably should have been. And I'll be the first to admit that, to this day, I wear my hat very slightly cocked to the side. I can't explain it. It just happened. You can take me out of Scarborough, but you can't take Scarborough out of me. But the brim remains, as it always has been, curved. As it is rightfully meant to be.

Less is more. For the love of God, take the tags and stickers off your hat. You're supposed to. And curve the brim. It's the way God wanted your hat to be.