A friend recently embarked on a new outdoorsy water-based activity. Naturally, she had to invest in some suitable gear. Who among us has not done a single yoga class and purchased mats, blocks and overpriced leggings in order to fit the mould of your new hobby? I myself wince every time I pass my pandemic roller-skating paraphernalia. Used once and then condemned to a high shelf in the hall cupboard.
My friend was unsure of what to wear to her inaugural rowing class. Full-on waterproofs? A wetsuit? A Roz Purcell-inspired outdoorsy fleece? Whatever she ended up wearing on her body is irrelevant though, for she made a decision on headgear that she may never live down. She purchased a visor.
It’s very difficult to get away with wearing a hat of any kind in Ireland, save for a functional beanie-esque item once the temperatures drop. Maybe U2 guitarist The Edge paved the way for the acceptance of a woolie noggin-warmer. Baseball hats are also generally tolerated, although wearing one backwards will immediately raise suspicions that you’re trying to be like “the Americans”, God forbid. My friend’s visor, though well-intentioned as a means to protect her face from harmful UV rays, will now ensure that regardless of any ability or skill she may have shown during her first foray into rowing she will only be remembered for her notionsy hat. “I knew it as well, that it was a mistake,” she said. “I had it hooked over my arm for ages before finally putting it on.” Immediately the eyes of the woman she was speaking to became fixated on the visor and when numbers were exchanged my friend was definitely saved in her new friend’s phone as “Visor Woman”.
Blindboy Boatclub tells a story about a guy “whose nickname is ‘Shtyle’ because he wore a leather jacket in the pub once about 15 years ago”
A now infamous 2021 tweet highlighted how difficult it is to get away with anything in this country. “Props to anyone who tries to be fashionable in Ireland. I wore a red beret once in Waterford and someone called me Super Mario,” wrote @janky_jane. The tweet prompted thousands of replies, many of which detailed similar responses to sartorial choices in any way outside the box. One described walking through Letterkenny while wearing a hat and upsetting an inebriated stranger so much that the stranger was prompted to bellow “Stop wearing f***in’ hats” (@MaxHomo). Another said they also tried out a red beret only to be asked if she was a member of the French resistance (@aweglar). One knew of someone who had returned home to her rural village and while queuing in the chipper was told “You think you’re so great, coming back here, in your HAT” (@awedandflawed).
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It is this rich culture of quick-witted and often affectionate slagging that keeps us humble. Where do we get our international reputation as humorous rogues if not because we’ll call a guy who once wore red socks “Karl O’Marx” for the rest of his life? Limerick’s Blindboy Boatclub tells a story about a guy “whose nickname is ‘Shtyle’ because he wore a leather jacket in the pub once about 15 years ago”. Irish people have a long history of finding humour in darkness and poking fun at ourselves, and have developed the art of slagging down to the finest line between humour and cruelty.
I myself have a large straw hat that will only go on my head once I’m out of the country. Like my friend’s visor it’s very useful for keeping the sun off my face, but I’m not taking any chances on the streets of Dublin. Someone would call me JR Ewing before I’d gone 20 paces. Speaking of JR, cowboy hats are items that we do have an affinity and tolerance for but only in very specific settings – namely Garth Brooks concerts and most other large-scale stadium shows. Harry Styles’s concert at the Aviva Stadium springs to mind, while Taylor Swift’s three shows there in June will no doubt be a sea of pink glittery Stetsons. Take That played recently in Dublin and I’d be disappointed if the street vendors weren’t doing a roaring trade in wide brims that evening.
My advice to my friend would be to double down and bring the visor on her next rowing adventure. Lean into the Visor Woman persona. Maybe even add an ostentatious scarf and join Shtyle and Super Mario in the annals of history. At the very least she’ll give a dozen people something to talk about over dinner that evening. Everyone loves a story about an eejit in a hat.