"(The preacher) invited the audience to remove their hats and turned his voice to God. 'Lord, help us to make America great again,' he prayed."—McKay Coppins, The Atlantic
The proliferation of red "Make America Great Again" or "MAGA" hats has me thinking how hat-wearing has evolved in this Baby Boomer's lifetime. In the 1960s, I think the only guys wearing baseball hats were standing on a baseball diamond or eating C-rations in a foxhole.
Although my father always wore a brown or gray fedora, I grew up hatless. I don't remember owning a hat until I was drafted.
The Vietnam-era Army issued all recruits an olive-green baseball hat known as a "hot weather utility cap." It took some time to get used to wearing it.
The baseball hat has since become an all-weather fashion accessory for men and women. Barbie debuted a pink baseball hat in 1959, and 1970s trucker culture was celebrated with foam baseball hats, CB radio chatter and such movies as Smokey and the Bandit.
In the 1990s, Gangsta rappers wore hats askew as an expression of hip-hop chic. Nowadays, a backwards hat raises no eyebrows, not even on Wimbledon's center court. A New York Times fashion critic, Vanessa Friedman, asserts that the baseball cap has become so ubiquitous that a British milliner has called it "the tiara of America."
Donald Trump's cultish MAGA movement has had the effect of granting permission to wear a baseball hat with a business suit or dress. The Trump Store calls the red MAGA hat a "bold wardrobe statement like no other," but as with morphing pronouns, aging Boomers like me are foot-dragging adopters. Another impediment is the legacy of soldiering.
Soldiers are issued a variety of hats, caps, berets and helmets. Some are formal; some utilitarian.
A few rules apply to all. Wearing a hat indoors is forbidden. The only exception is if you are "under arms" by virtue of carrying a weapon. If you have a rifle, your hat stays on; otherwise, it comes off.
All these years later, the Army's hat etiquette stirs disapprovingly in my subconscious whenever I see a guy wearing a hat in a restaurant or theater. I also recoil from vulgar hats. Even "SL,UT" and "Shit Happens" put me off. However, a surprising number of people push the boundaries of good taste.
There are a lot of folks who wear their hearts on their sleeves. But more people than you'd expect wear their spleens on their hats, as the MAGA tribe tends to do. At least men can spruce up Trump's splenetic brand of politics by wearing a red baseball hat with pinstripes, a telltale pairing.
I believe each of us is a walking hat trick—a composite of who we are, who we think we are, and who others think we are—so a hat can be an emboldened disclosure. The baseball hat has become a personal billboard. It is a medium by which identity messaging is delivered in words ("Childless Cat Lady") or images (Che Guevara) or logos (Utah Jazz).
Even if the upfront message is conveyed in bold tones, the underlying message is the whispered constant, "I am cool." When the cool kids like Michelle Obama and Kate Middleton dress down in a plain baseball hat, the unspoken message is: "We have lots in common."
I appreciate clever messaging because I like fiddling with words. I admired the aspirational recruiting slogan that the Army deployed in the 1980s—"Be all that you can be in the Army." It blossomed while others withered on the vine.
Of the recently withered is a well-intended slogan from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In August, the church held a conference of unmarried adults under 35. The theme was "Together in Christ," and thousands showed up to be together for three days around the Salt Palace. They dispersed smiling and carrying a souvenir T-shirt and baseball hat.
Printed on the front was "Went About Doing Good," a Biblical reference to Jesus. I found it grammatically awkward. Just a little wordsmithing would have generated "Doin' Good!" Or, even better, "Doin' Good Doin' Good!" for a play on nuance. I thought the vernacular "Doin' Good" was a slightly better choice than the prim "Doing Well Doing Good!" Others would disagree. Suffice it to say, I judged it an opportunity lost.
I feel the same about the website of the National Football League. My sons are fans of the New England Patriots; they favor hats with the Patriots' red-white-and-blue logo embroidered on the front.
When I want to gift them Patriot merch, I rely on the online NFL Shop, where hundreds of branded hats are for sale. The hats are showcased in a category called "Sideline Gear." It's a lame choice of words, I think.
"Sideline Gear" could be construed to be a cellphone, sunglasses or hand-warmers. It evokes the image of hat-wearing observers disengaged from the action on the field. Why not promote actionable engagement with categories like "Gridiron Gear" or "Scrimmage Gear"?
Such a change would resonate with the red-hatted Trumper, because it connotes conflict. The upbeat MAGA slogan Ronald Reagan rolled out in 1980 has suffered at the hands of Trump.
I hope the Harris presidency erases the memory of all things Trump, red hats included. To update MAGA eight years hence? I hope for: "Keep America Doin' Great!"
Private Eye is off this week. Send feedback to comments@cityweekly.net
