Those who know me, know I’m a diehard galeaphile (hat lover). I’ve always mourned the death of hatwearing. Up until the 1950s, for a man to go outside without a hat or head-cover of some sort was about as unlikely as him leaving home without pants. A hat did more than keep the rain and bird crap off your head, it was a statement of style and character, even social class.
I was nine during the Civil War Centennial in 1961 and everyone was getting into the spirit. The men grew beards and there were all sorts of commemorations and ceremonies. I got my hands on a cheap replica of a Union kepi and wore it everywhere until I outgrew it. Throughout much of the ’70s and ’80s I wore a black leather “Tevye” cap I found in Aspen in 1973. And my old friends from The Atlanta Pipe Band are still carrying the emotional scars left by my unrelenting pith helmet campaign.
Shortly after we moved to St. Louis in 1999, and what with needing to deal with those Midwestern winters again, I purchased a winter hat at a local outdoor recreation store called The Alpine Shop. The hat met all my criteria; unusual, stylish, black (but with colorful accents), covered the ears, soft, and non-scratchy. I was happy with both its appearance and feel. It never entered my mind that there was any question about how it should be worn.
I wear it with the flap toward the back and the brightly-colored vertical panel centered on the forehead (as in the left-hand picture below). Since I purchased it, I’ve seen two others, and in both instances they were worn with the flap to the front (as in the picture below on the right).

At first glance, it doesn’t appear to matter any more than someone wearing their baseball cap backwards.

But when the wind begins to blow and the ears get cold, the method on the left (mine) has obvious advantages.
a). the ears are covered, and,
b). the likelihood of walking into trees is reduced.

I don’t know who those guys think they are, walking around with their hats on backwards. I’m going to continue to wear mine as I have been until someone in authoritah informs me that form is required to triumph over function.
- Poppa
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