I wouldn't call myself a hat person. I don't acquire hats the way some women acquire shoes or handbags. But I appreciate the value of a good hat.
What's a good hat?
One that covers my bed head.
(Yes, even people with this little hair can get bed head.)
My hats run toward the snug-fitting, alternative-lifestyle variety. Toques, we call them here in Canada. Watch caps. There's a name for them in Australia, but I forget it. (I was told by an Australian guy here in Toronto last winter.)
I make my own hats. Most of them are hand-knit from Icelandic wool. In varying shades of blue. (Or occasionally "natural.") They are itchier than you can imagine. I tolerate it, somehow.
Hats are good. They make me presentable first thing in the morning, when I have to move my car. (That's a whole other post.)