The country concert happened, so the cowboy hat came out.
Not a hat he owns. Not a hat with any history on it. A hat bought that Friday, worn for one night, and now living on a shelf until the next Morgan Wallen tour or until he moves and has to decide whether it comes along.
It always comes along. That hat means something to him. Nobody, including him, can tell you what.
Go down the list
The cowboy hat and the boots for the country show. Boots. He works in insurance.
The black eyeliner and the fishnets for the goth show, on a woman whose entire wardrobe is business casual and who spent that afternoon googling how to look emo without going too far.
The flower crown and the linen layers for the festival, on somebody who would describe her personal style as classic every other day of the year.
The Misfits shirt, bought that afternoon, on a guy who cannot name three Misfits songs but felt the shirt communicated the right energy.
The energy. That's the word they use.
Nobody is fooled
That's the part they don't know.
Everybody at that country show can tell the hat is four hours old. It sits wrong. The brim has never been touched. There's no sweat line. He keeps adjusting it because he has no idea how a hat is supposed to feel and he's checking that it's still on his head.
The people who actually wear the hat clocked him in the parking lot.
And the woman in the fishnets is standing three feet from somebody who has looked like that since 2004, and they know, and she knows they know, and she'll be in a blazer Monday morning.
The costume isn't the problem
Wear whatever you want. Dress up. Have a night.
The problem is they don't think it's a costume.
They think that on Friday they became a country person and on Saturday they became a different person entirely, and that both of those are real, and that this is what having range looks like.
That's not range. Identity is the thing underneath all the contexts. It is not something you buy on the way to one.
What it actually is
It's a strategy, it works, and that's why they keep running it.
Put on the uniform and the crowd lets you in. Nobody looks twice. You get four hours of not being examined, and that is the entire product.
Which means they are never once dressed as themselves. Ever. There's a version of this person optimized for whoever is in the room, and it changes every time the room does.
And they're tired all the time and can't work out why, because it isn't from doing too much. It's from being somebody different every day.
It follows them on vacation too
Nashville, so now there are boots. Miami, so now there's linen and a shirt open two buttons. Colorado, so there's a flannel and a beanie and a picture of him standing next to a truck that isn't his.
Four days each. None of it gets worn again. All of it comes home, into a closet, and sits there until the next place tells him who to be.
Here's what actually gets me
Real style is recognizable in a grocery store.
That's the whole test. You can spot a person with actual style buying paper towels, because it isn't responding to anything. It's just what they wear. No research. No preparation. No hat bought for an occasion.
And it's harder than it looks, because in a mixed room there is nothing external justifying it. The cowboy hat at the country show is safe. Everybody else has one. Wearing what you actually wear, in a room that isn't set up for it, is exposed.
That's the outfit that means something. Not because it was picked for the room.
Because it was picked before anybody knew what the room was.
How to handle one
- Ask him to name three songs. Not aggressively. Curiously. "Oh you're into them? What's your favorite?" Then wait. Do not help him.
- Compliment the hat and keep going. Ask where he got it. Ask what size he takes. Ask if it's felt or straw. He does not know any of these things about the hat on his head.
- Ask what he wore to the last one. The last concert, the last trip. Watch him work out mid-sentence that it was completely different.
- Take a photo of him in it. Send it to him three months later with no caption.
- Wear the exact same thing you always wear. To all of it. Every event, every crowd, every year. It costs nothing and it will bother him more than anything you could say out loud.
Frequently asked questions
Is it wrong to dress up for a concert?
No.
Then what's the problem?
He thinks he's a cowboy.
What if I just like the outfit?
Then wear it on a Tuesday.
How do you tell the difference?
Look at what somebody wears when there's nothing to dress for. That's the answer and it's the only one.
What if I don't have a personal style?
You do. It's whatever you put on when there's no event. Start there.
Isn't buying a shirt at a show normal?
At the show, yes. That afternoon, at Target, so you'd already have it when you arrived, no.
A note on safety
None of this is advice. Number four ends friendships and takes about ninety days to detonate. We sell merch, which is itself a costume, and we are aware of that. We are not qualified to tell you what to wear, what to buy, or what to say to the man in your office who owns a cowboy hat and no cows. Do what you want. You were going to.
