Second skin: My baseball cap

Written by: Chanel Vincelli

Dear Baseball Cap,

I first found this sleek black baseball cap in my sister’s room. “Oh. No. Don’t do it” I thought. “Ask her before you borrow it.” I didn’t even think she’d like such a boyish piece… and it did have my name ALL over it. The gift was from her boyfriend and it had a super simple design and white Nike swoosh (no one does iconography quite like them). To my surprise, it fit my slightly large head and most importantly - the hair, perfectly. I started wearing it with my leather jacket on weekends and then slowly to work paired with oversized blazers. There were stares at first but I loved the tension it brought to my outfits.

“I even snuck it into a club one night because I thought I was so stealth to avoid the paparazzi."

No. Really, it was to break the blonde hair and skirt combo I had going on that evening.  Before I knew it, I was sneaking the cap out of my younger sister’s room while she was still asleep to bring with me on flights to New York, photoshoots in very-hot-for-April New Orleans, a once in a lifetime trip to Georgia O'Keeffe's Ghost Ranch in New Mexico and to keep my mane in place in the Palm Springs desert during Coachella weekend. 

“By then, the cotton baseball cap and I had been through so much, it felt like my second skin, my security blanket and Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak all wrapped into one.”

What I soon learned is, it felt like home in my wardrobe because of the nostalgia it reignited. I remember when I was in my awkward teen years, my extreme tomboy-ness was picked apart by my girl best friends. So I pulled away from the Kappa track pants, tees and baseball caps. There’s a coming back to self that comes with age. It started to feel like I was forgiving myself for the neglect years ago.

Regardless, I did have to give the baseball cap back to my sister. But I kept the identity it momentously brought back to me.