If I must have something that I don’t like about having locks, it would be that I can’t rock a snapback. Had there not been so much of a conversion in the herds of Black youth—fitted caps are nearly extinct among the heads of the coolest kids—my lament over snap backs would not even be an issue. No one can argue that the switch is another life-imitating-art fanatic, since none of the mainstream rappers—Drake, Maybach Music, J. Cole, etc.—wear snap backs. Besides, those types of perspectives, that restrict trends to imitations of media, demonstrate lazy thinking; instead, I think that the appeal to snapbacks connects to its forum for creativity.

Snapbacks fit the occasion for a Wiz show, one that's full of energy and experiments with the performer-audience dynamic.

Fitteds lack the retro swag captured by the one-size-fits-all buckle design of a snapback. When I say “retro” it’s not to imply that young people today are look at the 90’s and 80’s to inform their sense of style. In place of that idea, I’m associating the new age trend of swanking childhood pop culture with a wish to regain that childlike artistry. The snap back fits in with the crowds of juvenile Spider-man backpacks and Rugrats t-shirts. By covering yourself with the artifacts of childhood you recall an outlook on the world that has unlimited possibilities.


Chicago Avenue McDonalds’ and Walnut Street’s (Philly), appearance merely reflects the actions of modern youth; we relive those first moments of liberty when we decided to choose our wardrobe. Our style—which at times combines red striped pants, a black Hundreds tee and a Bulls snap back—plays with the conventions of dress in a way similar to the days before our parents indoctrinated us in matching and seasonal rules. If you don’t catch my drift, I see the emblems of modern youth fashion as a grass roots establishment of our aesthetics.