I had a couple classmates that pretended to be vampires back in elementary and middle school. They’d pretend their Koolaid was blood, complain about the sunlight, and bite their friends a lot. Not enough to draw blood, though. I haven’t kept up with most of them, but one guy is a teacher now. He seems pretty normal.
If you lived south of the Mason Dixon no one would have noticed. It’s so ubiquitous people forget how ridiculous it is: men who take themselves very seriously attending the office in the same outfit they wore to go trick-or-treating when they were six. I don’t mean it as any kind of condemnation. I love the ridiculous, delight in the passion of people grooving in their niche, and absurdity aside western wear can be a good look. But I feel the same way about all kinds of theatrical clothes, while the stetson crowd tends to ridicule the other.
You say that. But I was south of the Mason Dixon line and I definitely stood out. Even at some country music concerts. Because I was dressing as if I was the one on-stage at any given concert. I saved and eventually had my white Stetson, quite the rotation of Garth Brooks-style (sometimes literally!) Western shirts, Wrangler jeans, boots, belt buckles, the whole nine yards.
Your average concert-goer was in a t-shirt (IF THAT) and a ball cap with a fishing hook on it.
To say nothing of dressing like that in other, still-less appropriate, non-concert settings.