By Rahil Gangjee
Golf is a sport known for silence, discipline, polite clapping, and scorecards that can humble the strongest souls. But beneath this serene surface lies a wild, chaotic, rebellious streak—one that does not show up in our swings, our strategy, or our calm expressions.
It shows up in our clothes.
Yes, I’m talking about the fashion crimes of golf—those loud trousers, neon caps, retina-blinding shirts, and colour combinations so catastrophic they could trigger a weather alert. If the rest of the world assumes golfers dress like CEOs on vacation, they clearly haven’t seen the full circus.
And before I throw anyone under the golf cart, let me confess: I, Rahil Gangjee, was once a fully active participant in these crimes.
If you dig up my old photos, you will find a younger version of me wearing shades of orange, yellow, turquoise, and bright blue that had no business existing on fabric. At one point, I’m pretty sure I wore a shade of green that wasn’t legal in most countries. My closets were basically a tropical bird sanctuary.
The logic, back then, was simple: “If I can’t intimidate them with my distance, maybe I can blind them.”
My Fashion Misadventures (A Confession)
When you’re young on the Tour, you think you’re invincible. You also think the louder your clothes, the better your golf will magically become. Something about bright clothing gives you a false sense of power—like wearing fluorescent gives you +10 yards off the tee.
I’d walk onto a tee box feeling like a superhero, only to top the first shot 40 yards. Nothing humbles you faster than chunking a wedge while wearing a shirt that looks like it’s sponsored by a Holi festival.
I once walked into the locker room wearing a coral-pink trouser and sunshine-yellow shirt. One senior pro looked at me and said: “Rahil, are you playing golf or auditioning for a boyband?”
And honestly? He had a point. I looked like a backup dancer who got lost on the way to rehearsal.
But trust me—I wasn’t alone.
The Legends of Loud: Daly & Poulter
Some golfers commit small fashion mistakes. But then there are the professionals—the ones who have taken golf fashion crimes and turned them into a full-blown art form.
John Daly
The patron saint of psychedelic trousers.
Daly’s pants are not clothes. They are emotional experiences. Patterns with swirls, dragons, skulls, exploding colours, and designs that look like they were created by someone who drank five Red Bulls and fell asleep on Photoshop.
His trousers scream, “Subtlety is for amateurs.”
The amazing part? He owns it. John Daly could walk into a boardroom wearing flamingo-print trousers and no one would question it. That’s the power of commitment.
Ian Poulter
Ah, Poulter—the high priest of golfing couture.
Poulter doesn’t wear clothes; he curates them. His wardrobe deserves a museum wing. His outfits are bold, polished, patriotic, and dramatic all at once. That Union Jack pants moment? Iconic. Half the crowd cheered. The other half called their optometrists.
Between Daly and Poulter, golfers grew up believing that fashion should stun, shock, and occasionally cause minor eye injuries.
Why Golfers Dress Like Lost Rockstars
I’ve had years to think about this. And I’ve come to the conclusion that golfers dress loudly because the sport doesn’t allow any other rebellion.
Think about it:
- Can’t shout.
- Can’t dive.
- Can’t pump your fist too aggressively.
- Can’t celebrate like footballers.
- And definitely can’t tackle your playing partner (even if he takes 7 minutes over a putt).
So where does all that pent-up personality go?
Into the clothes.
Golf fashion is the quiet man’s rebellion. Our version of a rockstar smashing a guitar is wearing trousers loud enough to wake the dead.
We’re basically rockstars—just the very lost, very well-behaved variety.
When Fashion Fights Back
A friend once told me, “Wear colours that complement your game.”
So I wore muted greys and whites one week. Shot 78.
Next week, I wore a neon orange cap just for fun. Shot 70.
Coincidence? Absolutely. But will you ever convince a superstitious golfer otherwise? Never.
Golfers are a funny breed. We’re capable of analysing the biomechanics of a swing down to the angle of our toenail, but we’ll also genuinely believe that a lime-green belt improves our bunker play.
I’ve also seen young kids turn up at the range looking like they survived an explosion at a paint factory—fluorescent from head to toe—and hit the ball beautifully. Meanwhile, I’m in my calm, dignified navy shirt… struggling to hit greens.
Fashion has a sense of humour.
Growing Older, Growing Wiser… Growing Subtler
Today, I’ve retired from the neon brigade.
I’ve officially grown out of my “blinding the spectators” phase. My wardrobe now has shades that fall within the human-vision-safe spectrum. Blues, whites, charcoals—colours that say: “I’m here to play golf, not to direct traffic.”
But every time I see a teenager walk in wearing electric purple trousers or a cap that glows in the dark, I smile. Because that used to be me. And because golf needs these characters. Without bold outfits, golf becomes too serious, too stiff, too… beige.
The New Generation’s Fashion Experiments
The youngsters today are taking loud dressing to another level:
- Hoodies on tour.
- Joggers on the fairway.
- Shoes that look like space gear.
- Shirts with patterns that would confuse NASA satellites.
And I say: good for them. Golf needs energy. It needs expression. Even if that expression occasionally makes playing partners shield their eyes.
Fashion Crimes Don’t Save Your Scorecard
If there’s one truth I’ve learned, it’s this: No amount of neon saves you from a triple-bogey.
You could be dressed like a disco ball, but if your driver is misbehaving, no pattern in the world will help. Golf will always stay brutally honest, even if your shirt is lying to everyone around you.
Final Thoughts: Dress Loud If You Want, But Play Loud Too
To the next generation: Wear what you want. Go bold. Go bright. Go crazy.
Just remember—let your golf game shine brighter than your pants.
As for me? I’ve retired my fashion crimes. But they’ll forever be part of my story. And honestly, if I ever start missing the old days, maybe I’ll buy one pair of outrageous trousers just for nostalgia.
But only on a practice day. I don’t want the referees filing complaints.
Until next time—dress well, swing well, and don’t blind your fellow golfers.
Rahil Gangjee is a professional golfer, sharing through this column what life on a golf course is like