When I was 12, my mother made a denim newsboy cap out of scrap jeans. It looked like this but slouchier because it wasn’t as stiff. I claimed it as my own, much to her dismay, because she wanted to wear it. She finally gave in, and I wore it almost everywhere but at school. I was a very fashionable little kid.
It was my companion for many, many years, having found its way to college with me. Eventually it got too threadbare, and I had to retire it to the garbage. “Eventually” in this case was when I was in my late thirties. So it’s been gone for a while, but it had a long life. 25 years. Especially when it was made with worn denim.
I miss that hat. A purchased denim newsboy cap does not have near the charm of my mother’s creation nor the workmanship, and maybe I’m at the age where it doesn’t suit me anymore. But if its twin showed up in my life, I would certainly buy it.
Words Like Me 