I’m not sure if I like the title of this one — I could have been more creative. — Dan

Why Late 16th Century British Workers Had to Wear Hats

Pictured above is a photo from New York City in the 1920s. A century later, things are a lot different. For example, just about everyone pictured (except for one guy on the right) is wearing a hat. That’s not something you’d expect today. In our era, men and women wear hats in public only if they choose to (and usually only in response to the weather), and the social pressure to don one is minimal in most cultures. But for a long, long time, wearing a hat when out in public was very common, if not expected. 

And in England in the late 1500s, it was required by law — but not because the government had a particular affinity for headwear (or aversion to hair).

Hats, beyond their fashion value, serve a very specific purpose: they help keep our heads warm during cold weather and the sun out of our eyes on warm, bright days. If you were living in Great Britain in the late 1400s, you probably wanted a hat during the fall and winter months, and the good news is that there were plenty to be found. The town of Monmouth in South East Wales and the surrounding areas were home to a breed of sheep called the Ryeland, a docile breed that didn’t require a lot of food and produced a relatively large amount of high-quality wool. Local shepherds sold that wool to local craftsmen, who in turn created textiles including the “Monmouth Cap” (below). The Monmouth Cap quickly became a popular piece of headgear.

But Ryeland wool wasn’t infinite and neither were the number of capmakers. Demand outstripped supply, and people throughout England and Wales began looking for other ways to get their hats. Before long, the cappers of Monmouth and surrounding regions were met with competition, particularly from abroad. Prices fell, which was of course bad for the cappers. But it was bad for the larger economy as well. Great Britain’s economy centered on mercantilism — a nationalist maximization of exports and a minimization of imports — and wool (and hats) was supposed to be an export, not something regularly imported.

So the government got involved. In 1488, Parliament passed the “Hats and Caps Act,” which imposed a fine on anyone in England or Wales found wearing a cap that was produced elsewhere. For the next 80 to 90 years, this law — which really isn’t all that different than modern protectionist legislation — helped the cappers of Great Britain, and the English and Welsh wool industry in general, thrive. Prices for hats made locally remained high.

But of course, that’s a bad thing for consumers of hats. And that created a new problem: one could simply avoid the fine by not wearing a hat at all. Hats — again, weather notwithstanding — aren’t something we typically need to live a successful life. More often than not, wearing one is more about fashion or following norms than anything else. As the late 1500s approached, hat-wearing in general fell somewhat out of fashion. Maybe it was because people didn’t want to pay the high prices for a British-made cap (or a fine for wearing a foreign-made one), or maybe they just didn’t want to dress like their parents, grandparents, and the like had been for all those year. And once a type of apparel becomes unfashionable, the market tends to collapse. That’s exactly what happened here: caps fell out of favor. And once again, the wool trade was at risk. But this time, the issue wasn’t additional supply; it was a lack of demand for Monmouth caps. 

So again, the government stepped in, passing the Caps Act 1571. Per the Independent, the law “required all males, excepting noblemen, over the age of six to wear a woolen cap on Sundays and holidays, on pain of a fine. In those days, the wool trade was the foundation of the English economy, and the Tudors were determined to protect it.” It was cheaper to buy a locally-made hat than to go hatless.

The law didn’t last long because it, ultimately, didn’t make a lot of economic sense. Ryeland wool was still very popular, particularly overseas, and shepherds had no problem exporting it — so that part of the economy was actually rather stable. British consumers clearly didn’t want to pay a premium for headwear that they may not have wanted to wear in the first place, so that wasn’t a good reason to keep the requirement in place. The only sector of the economy that actually benefited from the law were local capmakers, and yes, the Monmouth cap became commoditized and the local hatters ultimately went out of business. In 1597, Parliament repealed the Caps Act.

The impact of the Caps Act on British culture, though, persisted. Monmouth caps became associated with working-class individuals — they, unlike nobles, were required to wear the caps. William Shakespeare coined the term “statue-cap” to refer to the attire, noting it was typically worn by laborers. And centuries later, the nation that a laborer would regularly don such headwear still stuck; for example, in 1957, cartoonist Reg Smythe introduced the comic strip “Andy Capp.” The titular character is a working-class man (who ironically, never does any work) and who always wears a cap, as seen here, and as noted in his last name.

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And thanks! — Dan

🎩More About Hats

Today’s Bonus fact: Hats were once important enough that a pirate decided to raid a ship solely to steal the hats of his victims. Benjamin Hornigold was a British pirate who was active in the late 1600s and early 1700s, mostly in the Caribbean. He and his crew typically raided ships for their cargo or whatever they received in payment, but not always. As the Vintage News shares, “n 1717, Hornigold and his crew attacked a merchant ship off the coast of Honduras. As terrified merchants begged for their lives, Hornigold’s crew explained that they had gotten drunk the night before and had thrown their hats into the sea, so they had attacked the merchant ship only to steal the hats of her crew. After they took the merchants’ hats, Hornigold and his crew allowed them to continue with their journey. Some historians believe that this curious endeavor was nothing more than Hornigold’s and [his second-in-command’s] wish to display their power.”

From the Archives: The Last Straw: The battle — like actually fighting — over when it is no longer appropriate to wear hats.