In the left-leaning Big Apple, itās a fashion faux pas more fatal than walking around in sandals with socks, or strapping a fanny pack around your waist: wearing a āMake America Great Againā hat.
To see for myself, I sported the fire-engine-red baseball cašŗp worn by Donald Trump on the campaign trail in liberal gin joints and shošps across Manhattan and Brooklyn.
I may as weš ll have been wearing a Red Sox hat at Yankee Stadium.
The merše sight of my cap nearly caused a riot at the historic Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street ā site of the 1969 riots that launched the gay rights movement.
āYou come intšøo a gay bar ā THIS gay bar ā with THAT hat!ā one woman lectured as a large crowd gathered.
At Sohoās sceney La Esquina, where celebs like Julia Roberts nosh on $26 enchiladas, servers nearly lost their lunch when I showed up.
āOh my God, do you seeź¦¦ that? Is he serious? Išs he kidding me?ā one waiter gasped.
My companioną·“ and I were quickly shunted to an out-of-sight table near a back wall.
At Sylšviaās soul food restašurant in Harlem, my server, Patrick Bros, admitted after my meal that he was taken aback by the hat, but figured, āWhatever.ā
Nearby, folks were less diplomatic.
āDonāt talk to him!ā a man instructed a street vendor as I browsed along 1ā¦25th Street near the Apollo Theater.
Hipsters and trustafarians along Bedford Avenue in Wš§illiamsburg either did a double take, or shot me a death stare or a snarky remark.
āTake off that stupid f—ing hat!ā one skinny-jeans wearer sneered.
At high-end chapeau peddler Goorin Bros., I overheard a salesman tell his colleague, āIām losing my sh–!ā as I walked in. When I asked him to hold my hat while I admired a fedora, he grimaced.
āIām surprised nobodyās knocked that hat off your head!ā a mother of two scolded me as we ź§crossed paths along Central Park West and 63rd Street. āMake America GrāØeat Again ā right!ā
On the sidewalk near Lincoln Ceš„nter, I spotted comedian Chris Rock and asked him to join me in a selfie. He raised his palm, and ź¦ækept on walking.