I’m at the Stonehenge gift shop in England, and it’s packed. Bobbing and weaving between tourists, mantle tchotchkes, and ornaments, I find myself drawn to a corner of the shop that’s empty save for a pristine stack of classic plaid wool English flat caps. I put one on as a joke, and yet as I look in the mirror, a curious feeling sweeps over me. I feel the satisfaction of a retired CEO, strolling the grounds of my countryside estate after a single-malt lunch. I feel like I can see the houses dotting the horizon of West Egg from my home on East Egg. I felt like I had manifested the idyllic, screen-free, leisurely life we all incessantly type our days away in pursuit of. This simply is not a joke, I thought. This is a power hat.
Let’s clarify: The flat cap is distinct from the newsboy or its more relaxed counterpart, the lieutenant. They’re often known by different names—like the paddy, golf, or even driving cap—and telling them apart can be like differentiating between identical twins. The newsboy style may have wedge-shaped panels, sometimes with a more curved brim and a looser fit, while the flat one boasts a sleeker design, with fewer panels and typically a distinctly flat brim. These hats gained popularity in the 16th century after a government mandate required boys and men to wear them to support England’s declining wool trade, and they eventually became leisure headwear for the upper class.
In 2017, I bought myself a leather iteration with a slightly curved brim, thinking I might channel the modern version of this man, who, at the time, included Leonardo DiCaprio, Idris Elba, and Brad Pitt. I wanted to have as much unbothered appeal as DiCaprio perched on Miami balconies in a flat cap or frolicking in the grass shirtless with a Super Soaker. I wanted to look as dapper as Elba at the Oscar Wilde Awards in 2016 with a flat cap glued to his head. Sure, it felt ridiculous to cram into the subway, where I was mortified that I thought I could pull such a thing off. While my hat made a proud Instagram post, in real life it was cringe. I promptly stashed it away into the depths of my closet for good shortly thereafter.
It wasn’t until Bevza’s spring 2024 runway show this September that I felt the urge to dust off my hat and give it another try. Designer Svitlana Bevza notably elevated the style for women. “Does it emulate old money? Yes, maybe a bit,” Bevza explains. “We wanted to take a sexy twist on a traditional cap.”
Bevza’s renditions in soft satin, organic cotton, and even crushed nylon for rainy days—accompanied by slip dresses, sheer mesh tanks, and exquisitely tailored suiting—were at once irreverent and sexy. The hats feel as classic for women as they do for men. “I first thought about designing these caps while observing a man wearing it in a traditional way in London,” Bevza says. “I thought, Why is it considered a traditional hat for a man and not a woman? I wanted to shake things up and showcase the caps in a different light and on different people.”
Bevza’s black satin cap is versatile, pairs easily with suiting, and elegantly complements dresses when adorned with a brooch. Personally, I switch between my white cotton Bevza flat cap and the plaid Stonehenge version during the day, pairing each with T-shirts, denim, or trousers. In the evenings, I opt for Bevza’s black satin cap, styling it with boxy oversized suits and long silk dresses.
My flat cap remains a totem of power, reminding me that a life without blue light and doomscrolling might lie ahead one day, even if that day is not today. Last week I found myself stuck under some scaffolding, trying to avoid a downpour while juggling incoming Slack messages, a phone conversation with Con Ed, and the ticking time bomb of a paper shopping bag I was using as a purse, which was dissolving at the bottom.
As I adjusted my hat before leaping across the four-foot-wide, mysteriously deep puddle between me and my destination, the act served as a reminder that this mayhem was only temporary. I plunged back into the chaos of my day, knowing that at least the top of my head was still dry—something to tip my hat to.
