Hats Off

OK, ladies, now I don’t want to tell you how to dress (yes I do, I’m lying) and I know you have the right to wear whatever you want to wear (even if it looks retarded) and I know that you like to be free and creative and expressive (even if the message you’re sending is “Hi, I have no taste!”) and I know that you really don’t have to listen to me (but really you should) (I insist) (really) …
… but …
… well, I only have one thing to say (at least right now).
If you’re still wearing COWBOY HATS, or anything that closely resembles one, well … stop it. I insist. That goes for any variety — straw, leather, wool knit, pink fuzz, denim, suede, furry animal print, snakeskin, foreskin — and any size. Petite and perched prettily atop your pate: bad. Oversized and “ironic”: bad. Traditional Stetson-style and actually bought “Out West”: just as bad. I don’t care if it cost you $3.00 at some schlock shop on Lower Broadway or 100 or 1,000 times that much on Rodeo Drive. Bad, bad, bad, and, oh yes, P.S. bad.
Last night, while watching the “Joe Millionaire” finale (yes, I felt strangely compelled to watch it, even though I’d never seen an episode before), I saw that one of the unchosen harridans was sportin’ a straw cowboy hat, and I gasped, turned to myself in disgust, and said, “Are people still actually wearing those fucking things?”
Who ever decided that this was a cute look to begin with? Did it have anything to do with this movie? It’s like a chicken-and-the-egg thing. I just don’t know. Or really care. I just want it to end.
Oh, and P.S. It’s not cute when men do it either. Or when country-n-western stars do it. Just so you don’t think I’m biased against fashion victim bimbos in downtown nightclubs.