Sometimes the ubiquity of the New York Yankees logo annoys me. The ‘NY’ somehow conveys power, strength and possibly virility. Why else would so many men that don’t even follow baseball wear the hat. I have at least half a dozen Yankee ‘NY’ logo caps in my fitted repertoire and I don’t even like the Yankees like that. You just have to own at least one of these caps for valid street credibility.
Street credibility is important to disenfranchised folks like myself. It’s all I have in this world. No, really. I’m not even joking right now when I say that. I’ll tell you later this week about how fucked the fuck up my world just turned, but for now understand that I am living on the edge. As I was walking from a job site in Crown Heights I saw this lonely Yankee hat left sitting on a cast iron fence. I wondered who in Brooklyn would leave their Yankee hat behind. These New Era fitted caps aren’t cheap, even from the wholesalers I pay $10 per cap.
I decided to take some pictures of the Yankee caps I encountered on my subway ride home. Since I was in Brooklyn the likelihood of me encountering a fan going to the stadium to watch the game was low. These folks wear their Yankee caps not to support JOE GIRARDI, but to maintain their status as average joes in the ‘hood.
Yankee hat in brown and tan to match the PePe Jeans outfit. As an aside, is PePe Jeans considered the national brand for Mexicans?
Traditional Yankee hat in foreground and exclusive Fulton Street monochromatic remix in the background.
Off in the distance, you guessed it, Yankee cap.
Yankee cap reflection in window belongs to someone whose face I never had chance to see.
Like father. like son. Yankee hat status starts as soon as baby is born.