Dressing for a Baseball Game: 4 Ways to Stand Out From the Bro Crowd
As much as we hate to admit it, we still think of certain areas as masculine vs. feminine spheres. The mall. (Hordes of screaming teenage girls make it hard to shake that one.) The stock exchange. The kitchen? (Maybe not — Jamie Oliver, you do your thing.) But one of these spheres towers above the rest, intimidating not only for the sheer Americana factor but for the hordes of testosterone-fueled men drinking overpriced Miller Light: the baseball stadium.
But what we don't realize is that the original lyrics to "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" featured a girl — Katie Casey, to be specific, who "was baseball mad, had the fever and had it bad" and "told the umpire that he was wrong." In honor of Miss Casey, who history has all but forgotten, I'm here to propose an idea for your next solo date: a baseball game. Just you, some team swag, and a cringingly-expensive tray of nachos.
I took my fabulous, unsportsmanlike self to a White Sox game the other day and had a fantastic time. Upper deck tickets are usually really cheap (mine were $7!), and you can sprawl out by yourself and revel in two hours of nothing major to do: Invest in the game, do some top-notch people-watching, take selfies, Tweet, and run through your existential crises one by one until you realize that there's no reason to freak out.
I'll be the first to admit that the wardrobe is a little tricky. You want to stand out from the hordes of bros, but you suspect that this isn't the appropriate time to debut your new heels or anything made of silk. Put on some Johnny Cash as you get ready, and let me show you how to walk the line.
1. Hair: I realize every magazine ever has told you to "air-dry your hair for natural texture!" while sneakily offering you a list of products to achieve that "natural" look. Well, when I say it, I mean it: Don't do anything with your hair. Let it down in all its humid glory. I promise you no one else at the ballgame will be thinking about hair, either yours or theirs, so revel in this particular freedom.
2. Outfit: The trick here is to reinterpret bro-style in your own unique way. I went for American basics, revisted: a plain white t-shirt (but oversized, sparkly, and a little bit sheer) and denim cut-offs, the essential short of American summers (but super faded and screen-printed with flowers).
3. Accessories: Tell a woman to ditch her girly accessories and you squelch her freedom of self-expression. I put on a floral scarf and armfuls of ratty friendship bracelets because a) I love 'em and b) nobody cares. This isn't a judgmental downtown club where people are side-eying your earrings — this is a energetic communal experience, where everybody has the same goal: To absolutely crush the other team. Nobody has time to judge what you're wearing, and that's awesome.
4. Swag: Here's an important lesson to learn — you will have more fun doing things if you fully invest in them. At first, I was like, "Ugh, sports, I sooo am not into them," but then I realized my whining affected nobody but me (let's just say the White Sox definitely didn't notice). So instead of arrogantly holding myself above the rest of the crowd, I decided to wear some sports paraphernalia, too. Unfortunately, I'm too hipster to own a sports cap, so I wore my grandpa's bright orange farming cap. I own one — ONE! — piece of White Sox swag, so I wore it like the cool bartenders do:
Once you walk into that hallowed stadium, let yourself get carried away by the fans' enthusiasm, and don't forget to root, root, root for the home team, like Katie Casey taught us all to do.