They say no one really chooses The Fog Cutter - it chooses you. One day, as the morning fog rolled over the hills of San Francisco, a brave little mullet emerged from the mist with a mission: find the head of a kid cool enough to handle its power.

It scanned the city from Twin Peaks to the Bay, then spotted a 3-year-old tearing down a sidewalk on a scooter, cape flying, snack pouch in hand. “That’s the one,” it said. And with a dramatic swoop, it landed on his head like it had always belonged there.

Now The Fog Cutter lives its best life - front short and respectable for classroom cred, back long and ready for recess rebellion. The Fog Cutter now rides proudly through Golden Gate Park like it owns the city. Locals have stopped asking WHO the kid is - they just point and say, “There goes The Fog Cutter.” Because when this mullet shows up, even Karl the Fog knows it’s time to back off.