I wear a hat every day. Through the wonders of poorly focused photography you can’t easily see this, but I have all sorts of hyper-pigmentation and other signs of aging as befits a middle aged woman living in a sunny country.
The funny thing is that I get more compliments on my hats than any other article of clothing I wear. Shop keepers, fruit sellers, random passerbys have told me I have a beautiful hat. Women tend to be both more chatty and more self-deprecating – following up their hat compliments with comments about how they cannot wear hats.
Bear in mind that wearing a head covering where I live is fraught with meaning. Certain religious groups have strictly or not so strictly defined expectations for “modest”, which includes various degrees of hair covering for women. There are your snood wearers, your wig wearers, your scarf wearers, and, yes, your hat wearers. I can’t help but wonder if the sight of me and my hats juxtaposed with the rest of my outfit, which probably does not abide by the rules of modesty, is so refreshing and different that the public feels compelled to express a long suppressed desire for a good hat.
Whiteley hat and two Mitzi of London hats thrifted on one lucky day