Mr Bucket Hat

Marty’s style is slicker than a kick-flip and fiercer than the most rinsing trap beat ever dropped at Ambar on a bleak Sunday morning. His look is best described as fuccboi chic: a Very Rare Hilfigger bucket hat, black Street X long sleeve T, classic chino shorts and a pair of $250 New Balance sneakers that he bought off some Ellenbrook fuccboi through the Facebook group, Perth Sneaker Heads. His fashion sense is just as puzzling as New Balances sudden resurgence as a force in designer sneakers. Didn’t only Jerry Seinfield nerds wear New Balance with their light denim jeans? How times change.

It’s 8am on a Tuesday morning, and Marty is getting ready to take photos of his mates skating in Perth’s CBD. Before he leaves his parents house, he posts on the Facebook page, “Guys Clothes for Sale”, he is desperate for a white long sleeved Yung Squad shirt and will pay “up to $35”. He waits for a few moments before being bombarded with private messages calling him a fuccboi. The insults are waters off a ducks back to Marty, or should we say, pubic grease off the whiskers of his filthy mo that looks like the facial hair equivalent of Butthead’s jizz rag. He gives up the search and skates obnoxiously along footpaths and quiet roads.

One of his squad members has brought a boom box that is belting out the finest Soundcloud trap music that his mate, DJ Rinse & Spit has produced on his Macbook. Marty unsuccessfully tries to execute a Nollie flip but is seemingly distracted by his own lack of talent and a roaming fuccboi from a different squad. Holy dickcheese, this rinser is wearing a black Yung Squad long sleeve tee and a multi-coloured Milkcrate bucket hat. Marty has been trapped, rinsed out, fronted on and sized up all in one foul swoop. Marty seizes his opportunity, “give ya $35 for ya T man, or willing to do a trade?”

When the fuck did grown men start buying each other’s flogged out, sweaty garbs? No one really knows, but Marty needs that t-shirt to compliment his bucket hat. In the end, the bloke trades his Yung Squad T, for a pack of rollies and $23 in grotty shrapnel. A perfectly acceptable barter in the exclusive world of the Perth fuccboi.

Marty poses for a photo with his new purchase. The pose? He is crouched down, with both arms crossed exposing the words “YUNG SQUAD”. He is pulling a face that would imply he is as hard as fuck. In reality, if fucking were an analogy for his hardness, it would be the kind of sexual encounter where a bloke tries to thumb-pack his floppy boner into a crackwhore who is laughing at the crinkling of the latex condom, while smoking gear from a sheet of al-foil.

Later that day, Marty uploads his sick photos to his blog before posting the Yung Squad shirt to Facebook. “Yung Squad T, $55, worn once, 10/10 condition”. Fucking parasite.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?