Let me clear something up before I begin. I am not a fashion expert. My idea of getting dressed up is to tuck in my shirt. I will gladly wear the same pair of
underwear jeans three days in a row, regardless of what holes or stains I may accrue during that time. Fashion trends go right over my head. The idea of spending more than $30 on any article of clothing makes me nauseous.
That said, any man who wears a fedora deserves to be punched directly in the pancreas. Whenever I make the mistake of going out downtown, I will inevitably see at least one Fedora Guy wherever I go. The Fedora Guy can often be found smoking outside of the bar with his friends, Striped Shirt Guy and Tribal Tattoo Guy. They often travel in packs. In the mind of Fedora Guy, he is the coolest person at the party. He’s a modern day John Dillinger, a charming rogue that plays just on the edges of polite society. In reality, he is a turd in a hat.
Fedoras are a token from a bygone era of testosterone, when men woke up in the morning and drank a glass of whiskey while smoking an entire pack of cigarettes just to get out of bed. When women were called “skirts” and black jokes were still considered workplace humor. Fedoras could be worn in that day because Fuck You, I’m A Man And Why The Fuck Not. Today, we live in a much safer and neutered culture. A wild night on the town today means drinking too much Grey Goose and grinding on some girl that looks like Snooki. This is why the only person allowed to wear a fedora anymore is Tom Waits.