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Some women buy shoes. Others collect bags. For me, it’s caps. In the past two years I’ve quietly amassed an arsenal that totals 20 at the last count.
My first was bought from my local coffee shop in London and features a playful thumbs-up embroidery that looks a lot like an emoji. Since then I’ve splashed out on a denim one from the Japanese brand Orslow, sourced preppy vintage Ralph Lauren ones with cutesy teddy bear motifs, and picked them up as holiday souvenirs: the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York, and hotels in Baltimore (Ulysses) and the Cayman Islands (Palm Heights) among them.
For those of us in the club, the cap is a means of self-expression. Each collection telegraphs the wearer’s