Jelly shoes, fanny packs and overalls. 90s fashion trends are in full resurgence in 2016 but there is one item of clothing that should not be allowed to make the twenty-year trek into the 21st century: bucket hats.
Bucket hats are like a fourth cousin on your mom’s side; you vaguely remember seeing them throughout your childhood, but if you ran into them at Walmart, you’d probably walk by and pretend you didn’t notice them.
The bucket hat, much like that same fourth cousin, has its origins in the 60s and has wavered in popularity through the decades. The headgear has been famously adorned by the likes of Bob Denver of Gilligan’s Island, Hunter S. Thompson and LL Cool J. However, when LL Cool J said he was “going back to Cali,” I wish he would have taken bucket hats with him.
The hat, a trademark among sporty dads and 90s hip-hop artists alike, has function, but is just so gosh darn unfortunate looking. Daily sun exposure can be harmful, and the hats can help protect overlooked parts of the body such as the ears and scalp from UV rays, but at the high risk of looking like the winner of the world championship of bass fishing.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to #buckethatshame, but something must be said about how these canvas monstrosities can impact your future.
Imagine you’re strolling through campus with not care in the world. You’ve got a pep in your step and a song in your heart (Highways and Byways), and just as you bring your fingertips together to illustrate taking the Lord with you in your home, SNAP, I take a photo of you to accompany this column.
Although there’s no such thing as “the long arm of The Optimist,” if I tag you in the picture, perspective employers could find it with a google search. Who knows? Maybe your hiring manager is more of a Nas fan than LL Cool J and takes your bucket hat as a sign that your only allegiance is to Mr. Cool J, not a professional career.
Ditch the bucket hats, kids, but look on the bright side. You’re at a university in Texas, and if you’re consciously going to make poor headgear decisions, you might as well rock a ten-gallon Stetson.