Yes, wearing a hat is eccentric but here's why I do it anyway

Sporting a hat has become tantamount to wearing sunglasses indoors – marking you out as weird. And even David Beckham’s appearance in a flat cap isn’t helping those of us who can’t kick the headgear habit

David Beckham spotted wearing an unusual item of clothing is a news story that has been with us since the mid-90s and, like war in the gulf or a new series of New Tricks, it keeps returning, despite no one having the stomach for it. This time he has been pictured wearing a flat cap on a Cambridge punt, one of the few places where hat wearing is still acceptable, in a “right then guv’nor – where to?” sort of way.

But Beck’s hat does speak to an odd malaise for the piece of clothing. In a few decades, it has gone from a necessary and often practical piece of formalwear to one of the most maligned items of clothing, competing only with male bracelet in its ability to send out swipe-left vibes.

The hat’s problems are highlighted by the public outcries when one is spotted in public. Pharrell’s hat adoption felt like the biggest news story of 2014. James Bay, a new acoustic popstar who won the Brits critics’ choice award, has based his whole personality round his unusual-hat habit, although this weekend he admitted his penchant for headwear is related to a fear of going bald.

I’ve become attracted to hats for much the same reason, and am now rarely spotted without the peak of a cap. There are situations where this is acceptable. Among Britain’s nightclubbing youth, the beanie has enjoyed a resurgence in recent years, particularly among women, who find it hides all kinds of sweaty-hair calamities. Stick your head into a south-London house night and you’ll see row after row of knitted black bobs, as if the club was inhabited by the stick men from Windows clip-art. Perhaps more bizarrely the bucket hat has also made a comeback, on the same childhood nostalgia trend that has seen forgotten 90s brands like Kappa and Ellesse return.

But, outside the realm of late nights and no responsibilities, it’s very hard to spot hats, day to day - they are almost never on red carpets, most high-street shops have stopped even making them. Wearing one indoors seems prurient, like wearing sunglasses, and on formal occasions outlandish; the same as wearing a kilt can only be a mark of zany traditionalism. Imagine, for a moment, if any of the party leaders had shown up to a debate in headwear – the election would have plummeted into disarray as papers competed to scream Nigel Fedora or Natalie Bonnet.

Like people who appear standoffish when they’re really just shy, the hat wearer must always look like they are flaunting convention. I’ve worn hats at university graduation, on television news, and even the, admittedly dreadful, suit-and-baseball-cap combo. Forever, we are destined to be the fancy dresser; the dad’s mate who’s had one to many; the rugged Cambridge punter.

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