There’s a photo of me somewhere that my mother threatens to share on Facebook every time I act like too-big-of-a-freaking-know-it-all. It was taken in 1997. I am wearing platform sandals with a three-inch foam sole, size-wide leg jeans that were nicknamed “JNCOs” because they could’ve doubled as parachute pants, and a brown corduroy bucket hat stretched low across my forehead and eyes.
I’m giving the peace sign and sporting that trademark cocky-too-young-to-understand-how-terrible-you-really-look smirk that every teen photographer’s daughter knows and loves. My mother captured me at my fashion peak, shouting, “Don’t ever let me catch you wearing that bullshit again, Harper!”* *I’m paraphrasing, but she said something along those lines. God, I hate it when your mom is right.
I spent years boycotting bucket hats as I matured into my personal style. I promised myself that whatever atrocious trend from my childhood rose from the depths of fashion hell due to the endless cycle that is retail, bucket hats would not be it.
They joined the likes of butterfly clips, roll-on body glitter, and plastic snap-tastic tattoos that looked like we were wearing kids’-sized Slinkys around our necks. “I refuse to wear clothing born from the nightmares of teen fashion memories,” I would say pompously to interns.
But when Summer of last year rolled around and bucket hats were spotted on every jean(short) wearing-know-it-all the planet had to offer, I panicked. It started with Gen Z kids (the lucky ones who weren’t alive when horror wore hopsack) rocking them ironically at Trader Joe’s. Before I knew it, grown-ass adults with offices and self-respect were wearing the goddamn things.
Photographers were snapping them left and right. Hell, one kid at a bar even wore his backwards. “It’s ironic,” my friend Zoe whispered into my frantic FaceTime call. “They’re literally wearing them ironically.” Sweet irony, why did you leave me? I yearned for the days of bucket hats-as-fashion-commentary.
But you can wear trendy things ironically for only so long until… you’re just wearing them. Pointlessly. Irony has no place in fashion; it’s a thin line that we tend to cross without realizing until it’s too late.
One day you’re not wearing a bucket hat and the next you’re sports-coach dad wearing a bucket hat. Wearing something ironically also tends to make you wear it a lot. Before you know it, you’ve solidified your very own trend—and irony is no defense.
I held out for 11 months and 17 days. Sure, Louis Vuitton and Loewe tried their best to dunk us back into bucket hell with their runway versions, but what ultimately got me was Target. Rain was forecasted for an entire week in April and my hair had begun a full-on rebellion against me.
The fourth day of Fashion Week brings four things: exhaustion, very little sleep, hat head, and an overwhelming need to wash your hair but also not wash your hair because hello, rain. As I waited in line outside of a boutique in SoHo for a showroom presentation to begin, my eyes caught a black canvas bucket hat with minimal branding. The angel on my shoulder began speaking in what I can only describe as a Devil’s whisper: “It’ll cover up your hat hair.
No one will notice. You’re going to be miserable AND wet. You’ll think you look bad BUT you’ll be stylishly pessimistic on Instagram.
It’s cheap, and Target.” The voice went on, but I knew what I had to do. Reader, I purchased the damn hat. Forty-seven dollars and what I imagine was a piece of my soul later, I walked out of that store wearing a bucket hat out in public for what felt like the first time ever.
At first, I didn’t recognize myself. Part of me wanted to turn back and run home before anyone could see me. But the other part of me…liked it.
As I passed my reflection in the storefront window, I caught myself studying my new silhouette. I raised my coffee cup to snap an Instagram story, and my goddamn world shook. I.
Looked. Good. Okay, maybe not Olympic good… but not horrifying either!
The hat covered up the main part of my hair that frizzed out when it got wet, actually framing my face in a way that wasn’t entirely unflattering. It paired well with my thin-strapped slip dress and white leather sneaker look. I took my phone out and started swiping through my plethora of Facetime filters when I heard a chuckle from behind me.
I whipped around to see a woman who had been shopping across the street watching me faceplant into my newfound bucket bottom self-love. She raised an eyebrow and smirked at me over the handle of her wine purse. “Enjoying the weather, huh?” She asked knowingly. I glared at her until she laughed and walked away.
What did this b*tch know anyway? ? Fast forward three weeks, and I have worn that bucket hat more times than I could’ve imagined. I took a selfie in front of the mirror one night after realizing I “couldn’t find” my hat and posted it with the caption: “How did we let society turn us into these?” pointing at my reflection.
To my horror, it received…likes. I actually liked how it looked! After years of holding out and bullying brim-bottomed peers about their outrageous accessory choice, I caved.
What. The. Actual.
Fuck. Post met with texts from my usually cruelly honest friends congratulating me on finally joining the group. “Bucket hat? Bold choice.
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Works though,” my editor Katherine texted me. If anyone is worth applauding too, it’s Katherine. I hate to say I told you so, mom…but I kind of did.
I’m now the owner of three different bucket hats. (After I finished writing this, I bought another one. I may or may not have a problem.) There’s the aforementioned black canvas wildcard that turned me, a cream-colored cotton numero dos that I’m convincing myself can give me “Hamptons envy” vibes rather than “I auditioned for Wild N Out and didn’t make the cut,” and ugh. A dusty pink corduroy number that is giving me some serious #2000bagger vibes.
Now, I’m not gonna lie to you and try to convince you that this comeback tour was an easy one. Nor will I try and act like all of my coworkers and fellow trendspotting millennials haven’t questioned my decision to hop on the (gulp) bandwagon. But here’s the thing about 2025’s bucket hat revival: they’re not your Mom’s (literally) bucket hats.
When I was a teen, we rocked bucket hats with everything. Huff™ oversized t-shirts, booty shorts, multi-colored bandana sneakers, you name it. The goal was as much tie-dyed hippy fabric around your shoulders and knees as possible.
We paired our hats with anything and everything from the Juicy crawler hanging below our jeans to sheer Bieber-cut leggings. Of course, we couldn’t forget accessories (Thanks a lot, Claire’s! ), so any hat we rocked was undoubtedly paired with a graphic designer-inspired necklace touting questionable semicolons as its focal point. Fast-forward to today, and I’m giving you tips on how to NOT wear your bucket hat like a sass-tastic tween.
Unless you’re consciously going for the Jordyn Woods circa 2019 vibe, I suggest pairing your new favorite hat with more streamlined silhouettes. If I could offer one piece of solid gold advice from my journey back into brimville, it’s that when you wear a statement piece with high nostalgia factor potential, try letting said piece be the statement. Keep the rest of your outfit simple, and lean into the hat.
For example, last Thursday I wore my cream bucket hat with a pair of black cigarette pants, fitted white tee, and oversized blazer to run some errands before stopping in for a meeting with a PR firm. The hat elevated what would have been a pretty standard get-up and gave it that extra something to make people ask where I got it (they did NOT ask). Pair it with slim-fitting jeans or pants, a simple tee, jacket, and boots or sneakers and BAM.
You’re giving off serious business-chick-meeting-client-but-really-she-wants-to-kick-it-at-the-country-club vibes. I’ve also worn mine with sundresses (nothing too poofy or boofy, keep it streamlined!) and even a pair of shorts with an oversized linen button-up. Roll up those sleeves, leave a couple buttons undone, and dare I say…don’t look like basic bitch Barbie and her summer wardrobe options.
I threw on my black bucket hat with black leggings, an oversized gray sweater, and some minimal gold hoops on my most recent flight to Miami. It was comfortable but not sloppy, and hid the fact that my hair was going to wind up like Cousin It from The Addams Family thanks to twenty-two hours of flying hell. If there’s one trend I’ll give you all; bucket hats are surprisingly versatile when it comes to your face shape and hair length.
My face is on the rounder side, so the structured brim actually gives my face some nice angles. My friend Emma has a narrower face, so she rocks more flowing, slouchier styles. They also seem to work on literally every hair length.
My boyfriend wore his so tightly cropped that it barely covered his head, but still looked damn good. My pal Maggie wears hers with full blonde locks and they still look incredible. There are definitely still some hat don’ts.
Stay away from overly-logoed styles that look like you raided the Hall of Fame at your local Foot Locker. If it’s too floppy, you risk drowning in a bucket hat and looking like you just came from the beach with a toddler. And please for the love of knit fabric everywhere, no wearing them with summer suits!
Unless you’re trying to reenact scenes from the Backstreet Boys reunion tour, please leave your bucket hats in the casual aisle. Your materials matter more than ever with a bucket hat. Stick to cotton and canvas for safe street-style bets.
You can wear denim as well, so long as the rest of your outfit isn’t denim. Denim pants + denim shirt + denim bucket hat=Canadian tuxedo, and we can only blame Canada for one awful fashion trend at a time. Spring/Summer corduroy can be tricky, but it’s not a completely lost cause if you pair it with the right things.
Think lighter fabrics, linen, breathable tees, and the like. Fun fact: Bucket hats come in some technical fabrics that range from amazing to literally garbage depending on how you style them. If you do choose to wear a tech-nick bucket hat, I suggest keeping the rest of your outfit more on the luxe/simple side.
And guys…for the last month, I’ve actually considered buying a straw bucket hat for summer. I caught myself in the sports section of Uniqlo looking at one (THIS CLOSE to buying it), but I pulled myself together. There has to be a line, people.
As much as I hated to admit it, the bucket hat had redeemed itself. What I wasn’t expecting was to not give a shit what people thought about me rocking my new favorite trend.
I would have fought anyone who told me to give them another chance way back when.
Pre-social media, I would’ve mocked these souls on the reg. Now I just smile and think, “Cool hat, Betty. Wish I had one that wasn’t brown corduroy.” Last Sunday, my mom and I were having lunch and I decided to don my favorite bucket hat out with my slip dress and statement jewelry.
She raised an eyebrow at me (yes, mothers know this gesture) and took a bite of her kale Caesar salad. “Didn’t you wear that in high school?” She asked, eyeing me up and down. “Like the day you were caught wearing that denim puffball dress?”**she scoffed. **This actually happened. We still laugh about it. “No Mom,” I said indignantly, swirling my wine. “I wore a brown corduroy one. This is totally different.” She smirked that knowing smirk that moms are terrifyingly good at and pulled out her phone. “Mmhmm,” she replied, scrolling through pictures. “Should I post that picture now or wait til your birthday?” Oh, mom.
You win. But thank God we can all agree that bucket hats aren’t what they used to be. Literally.
And if she does end up posting that photo…well, at least I can confidently say I kicked this trend decades before it was cool to do so. That’s right Mom, FOREVER early.
