Italian-American Family Hats

Our Irish Goodbye hats are for leaving a party without a word. This collection is for the other one. A Rhode Island Monthly writer lays the Italian one out in stages: start laying the groundwork up to two hours before you want to leave, get through the Tupperware Goodbye while the leftovers are packed for you, then the Driveway Goodbye, when the aunts, uncles and cousins who didn't get enough Goodbye Time follow you to the car. Every design is a line a loud, loving, heavily fed Italian-American family would say about itself: the goodbye that takes forty-five minutes, the hands that talk along with you, the nonna who feeds you like you are shipping out to war, the malocchio you are protected against, and the Sunday dinner you do not skip, the one NIAF is campaigning to Make Sunday Italian Again. The market already buys the loud part: I'm Not Yelling I'm Italian sells on shirts at Walmart, and MANGIA turns up on socks and bags. What we could not find on a hat was the family's manners: the goodbye, the wooden spoon, the evil eye. Food phrases belong to our Gabagool and Legalize Marinara pages, so this one stays on family, volume and manners. ITALIAN AMERICAN and NONNA are the plain badges, MANGIA is the one-word command, and the longer lines run in a serif so they read as dry as they are meant. All embroidered on a dad hat, two of the strongest in a second colorway.