The 90s are back... but are they Blossom hat back?
Only one way to find out.
Most kids go through a signature look phase.
For some, it’s the year they turned six and refused to wear anything but rain boots. My daughter insisted on wearing a “twirly” sundress nearly ever day for 18 months. In the winter, we added a turtleneck beneath. When the dress ripped, our friend Liz stitched it back together. My son was so obsessed with the green poncho we bought him in Mexico five years ago that last fall, we found the exact same one in his current size.
Tweenage Molly loved her Blossom hat.
Named after the main character played by Mayim Bialik, this was the epitome of cool in the early 90s.
Or at least I thought so. I wore this hat everywhere. Family dinners, birthday parties, Universal Studios, where a caricaturist captured the moment.
I’m equal parts KonMari and sentimental. I don’t hang on to everything, but there are a few things I can’t quit. This is one.
A few weeks ago, I found The Hat in my closet and thought, The 90s are back. Could this hat be cool again? Chunky white dad shoes have been “in” for awhile. Wide-legged jeans and showing your socks? Also cool. Long shorts that are also high-waisted and baggy, paired with a braided belt… well, apparently that is so hawt right now.
However, the Blossom hat felt… different? Fine for a tween, but perhaps a titch too childish for a 42-year-old woman? Oh well! That’s why I call it a fashion dare.
I selected the perfect event for the Blossom hat’s comeback: the Cake concert at Surly Brewing Field.
A Cake (the band) fan since 1994, I figured my fellow attendees would have the cultural reference for such a hat. I knew the chance of running into someone I know was pretty high, which upped the potential embarrassment ante.
Plus, I loved the idea of making my husband a little uncomfortable.
As we traveled to show via Uber, Josh couldn’t stop laughing at me.
Josh: You look ridiculous.
Me: My hypothesis is that a bunch of women will be like OMG I used to have that hat!
Josh: I think you’ll just get weird looks and no one will say anything.
I sighed. You don’t know the chokehold the Blossom hat had on elder millennials, I thought smugly. Talk to the hand.
We exited the Uber a few blacks from the venue, joining our fellow concert-goers on the sidewalk. They were mostly men. White men. With beards. And boring shirts. A lot like my husband, actually. Men probably lacking any notable connection to a Blossom hat.
We decided to grab dinner in the food hall prior to the show. After adding our name to the waitlist, Josh and I walked toward the bar, navigating a packed room filled primarily with Millennials and Gen Xers.
You know those moments when everything starts happening in slow motion?
A woman at a table with six friends looked at me, scowled, whispered and pointed. I passed another woman whose face morphed into the same expression you’d use when walking through a fart cloud.
My contemporaries turned on me. I didn’t feel like Blossom. I felt like Hester Prynne navigating my Puritanical community, scarlet A blazing upon my breast.
We hopped in the beer line, and I asked Josh, Did you notice the people starting and laughing at me?
Not really, but I get why they would.
As we picked up our beers, Josh received a notification that our table was ready. The hostess walked us to a small communal table, where three college bros were already enjoying beers. Josh and I shoehorned ourselves onto the bench seating.
Hi! I said, a little too cheerily.
The bros looked up, and stopped talking. In that moment, I didn’t feel like Blossom. I felt like this:
I looked like a woman who uses a “swear jar.” Or Sarah, Plain and Tall. I looked like a small town librarian with a sewing basket and calico cat. Sure, I may have two kids, but I looked like a virgin.
Because I’m me, I fought the urge to let these young lads know that I am a cool mom, not a regular mom.
Before I could place my foot awkwardly in my mouth by saying something like Hahah we’re old enough to be your parents!, Josh announced, You know what? There are so many empty tables now, I’m going to ask the hostess if we can move and give you guys some space.
They looked relieved, as did I.
We moved, and ordered tacos. Once the server left, I blurted out, I feel so stupid in this hat! Normally when I wear something out of the ordinary, it eventually disappears from my consciousness. I forget I’m wearing a neck scarf or tall socks. But the Blossom hat made me feel ridiculous.
Just as our food arrived, I saw an acquaintance with her new baby. I couldn’t resist saying hi, so I walked over and gave her a hug. We chatted for 30 seconds before she needed to rush off (new babies need a lot of attention!), and she didn’t even look twice at the hat.
I couldn’t help but wonder… was I actually pulling it off?
Maybe I was doing that terrible thing we all do: thinking people are looking at us when, in reality, we’re all just concerned about ourselves.
After Josh and I wolfed down our food, we hustled to the adjacent field where the started playing at precisely 8pm. I love a concert that starts on time! Better yet, shows at Surly apparently must end by 10. They aren’t too loud (honestly, Cake could’ve significantly increased the volume— I listen to music louder in my car, which is probably why I can’t hear for shit), there were plenty of food trucks, great beer and non-beer items, and notably clean porta potties. 10/10!
Over the next two hours, the hat stopped feeling weird. I relaxed and enjoyed the show. At one point, I decided to get a beverage. After ordering a Surly Hop Water (my favorite NA drink!), a Gen Z cashier ran my card, then said, I love your hat!
Thank you! I got it for my 10th birthday— over 30 years ago. I guess it’s vintage?
Oh my god, that is so cute!
You know what? It IS so cute! Forget anything I’ve ever said about Gen Z being a bunch whiny complainers. Maybe the kids are alright.
The concert ended at 10pm on the dot. As we waited for an Uber, another woman— this one about the same age as me— shouted, I LOVE YOUR BLOSSOM HAT!
I looked at Josh. Told ya.
So… is the Blossom hat back?
Probably not for 42-year-olds, but if you weren’t born in the 1900s, I think you could pull it off. You’ll just have to find your own damn Blossom hat, because I’m not giving up mine.
Did you ever have a “signature” clothing item? Share with the rest of us!
I loved everything about this post. It was like I was sitting at the table with you and the three bros. So glad I get to read your stuff even when its about a blossom hat. Did you see Sara Jessica Parker's Srawberry shortcake hat? You might be onto something
You look great in the hat! Definitely wear it more often.