- STOCK PHOTO
- Too bad my roots won't shelter in place.
And I mean, it's fine. It's small potatoes next to all the significantly bigger potatoes in this potato bag called life that surrounds us.
But for all those looking for a sartorial silver lining, consider the humble gift that is a hat.
One recent, sunny Saturday when I was standing on the sidewalk, two metres away from strangers, in line to go to my favourite magazine shop, I noticed it: Not a single person on that street was without a hat. Baseball caps, flat caps, even a couple of oversized floppy numbers were all on display. A turn down Spring Garden Road saw many a garden hat getting its grand debut.
I was thinking about how I'd never seen so many hats IRL before—not even at Jazz Fest, where a fedora can really flex. I stopped to make sure my own growing-out undercut (more of an overcut now, tbh) was tucked up inside my own ball cap before putting it all together: We're all dealing with weird roots, grow-outs, greys and split ends. Any of us who worried we might look stupid in a hat are realizing that right now, we might look more stupid without one.
Because really, we're going into week nine of this thing, which means even the most well-put-together of us are now at least over two months out from their last salon visit (woe to those like me who really needed a haircut before all of this began).
So let's just say fuck it. Throw on a hat. Live dangerously—as long as it's two metres away from the rest of us.