I’m getting off.
Off of the hat rack. Settle down mom. Actually, there’s a chance she’s unaware of the sexual application of the phrase. Was. Shoot. That’s what he said.
Alright, okay. Head wear, head wear, head wear – I always thought it was for people who didn’t like their hair. That theory still proves true, but for most it seems to function as a reprieve from particular instances of mane malfunction as opposed to a blanket, or rather, sombrero displeasure. And sometimes, sometimes it’s just an accessory.
Fashion forward. Or backwards. To the side, even, if you’re really daring – or immersed in rap culture. Either way, such options only brim if the bill is that of a baseball cap. And fit though my physique has become, athletic attire still suits me best when sported from the neck on down.
Not so, however, with hipster duds. For the beanie I am too hot blooded and do not need to “check it (again) and see,” but the straw fedora – that’s a trademark I can get in on. Especially when scored for just $2.50 in the (apparently now, close-to-a) dollar section at Target.
“Frugalista,” ain’t no dirty word in my book. Un – uh. Certainly not when donning the apparel practically begs a vaudevillian one-two-flip up the forearm.
Yes, hat head appears to be the only potential drawback of this new addition to my wardrobe; but I’ll just keep it on, take their pants off, and give rise to a new innuendo.
hahahaha!