I've noticed a correlation between one's age and the distance between top of head and tip of hat. The older one gets, the greater the distance. My dad wears hats this way too. So much room under there, you'd think he was stashing away an extra large twist of mozzarella from Fiore's.
Case in point. Yvette snapped this on the bus this morning with the new iPhone she can't put down. Long live the iPhone. Mr. Orange looks like he belongs in Whoville.
Snorks have been popping up everywhere as of late. Waiting in line for the bus, grabbing coffee at Starbucks, delivering our mail. Is the older man more sensitive to losing his hair, that perhaps he feels a cap with more height will allow the hair follicles to grow? Place to put your bagel and coffee? Spare change and a newspaper? Or does comfort simply trump fashion sense over the age of 65?
There are young snorks out and about too, which leads me to believe that I missed the episode of MTV Cribs where some young, hot recording artist answers the door wearing an extra tall neon knitty, much like the gentleman pictured on the bus. Crazy kids these days. Kids and their cushy whoville hats and their baggy pants below the crack line. When will belts be all the rage? Hell, pegged pants and stirrups had their day in the sun and I waited patiently for them to make their exit. This pants below the ass thing, though ... not very sensible in the frozen tundra. Haven't you heard of Crackbite? Cheekfrost? Ouch.
I guess Philip Seymour Hoffman's beanie was more than just an Oscar fashion don't, now that I think of it. He should have Snorked it up. Maybe Jay Manuel, aka, Queen O' Sheba, would have been kinder to him had he sported a few more inches.
