Authors: Stephanie Pearl–McPhee
Despite all the good reasons for knitting hats (see pages 104â5 for just a few), as a knitter you're going to meet the occasional person who hates hats. Maybe, just to add insult to injury, the person actually hates just knitted hats. What do you do? What does a dedicated, loving, talented, and committed hat-knitting knitter do when faced with that kind of personal attack? Knit mittens. Hats aren't worth a missionary effort, and studies show (I asked around) that if you knit for a hat resister, nine times out of 10 the hat ends up at Goodwill or stuffed down the back of his closet. One out of 10 times the recipient keeps the hat around (reluctantly and wears it when he sees you). This is not good for a relationship. Walk away; knit where you're appreciated. Other people love hats.
Of course, there are also those with an overwhelming fear of hat head. Hat head is a sad affliction wherein the chosen hat and the selected hairstyle are grossly incompatible. The unfortunate combination results in a condition that can be hidden only with the application of another hat. It's a vicious cycle, and one you need to know, as victims will both abhor hats and hold them in the highest regard.
Ten Reasons to Knit Hats
Your mother was right. (Again.) Thirty to 50 percent of our body heat is lost through the head. This means that for much less knitting, yarn, and time, hats are at least as warm as sweaters. This is good news for knitters who, like me, live in Canada and have a short attention span.
Hats appear to be excluded from the normal rules and restrictions that picky people make up about their wardrobes. A man or woman who won't wear colors or stripes or anything that falls outside of an extremely personal and inflexible set of guidelines will often own a hat that breaks all of these rules.
Hats are, as far as knitting goes, pretty small. When I need the thrill of a knitting victory and I want it quickly, a hat gives a fast payoff. Sometimes I'll knit a hat during a sweater project just to take the edge off.
Hats are comparatively easy. I won't say they're easy, because if I do, someone who's out there having a bad time with a Fair Isle beret knit at 30 stitches to the inch is going to write me a very nasty letter, but compared to a sweater or socks (especially those that are Fair Isle and 30 stitches to the inch), a hat is a walk in the park.
Human head sizes are hugely variable. The diameter of a preemie's head can be as little as 9 inches, whereas a linebacker's could be as great as 27 inches. That's quite a range. Knit on: it will fit somebody you know.
Hats take very little yarn. They're good for leftovers, for one skein you adore, or for trying out a little bit of yarn to figure out if you want to invest in enough for a bigger project. If you discover, for example, that the brand-new merino you've been coveting for six months pills so much that it should be in rehab, it's a lot easier to take if you have a hat rather than a sleeve.
Hats are needed in all seasons. In the summertime, you can knit lacy cotton caps or baby sun hats; in the spring, bonnets; and in the fall, jaunty berets. In winter, you can switch to hard-core hats with earflaps. See? Hats are year-round projects. Try that with mittens, and you're going to look so stupid in July.
There are as many ways to make a hat as there are knitters. A hat can be knit in the flat, in the round, and on straights, circulars, or DPNs. You can use super-chunky wool or delicate silk. No matter how you like to knit, I promise there's a hat pattern out there for you.
Hats get lost. So do mittens, but at least you can put mittens on a string. Although most knitters see hat loss as a problem, I see it as an advantage. This constant hat turnover means the odds are extremely good that someone you know will need another hat soon.
Hats are singular. Unlike mittens, socks, and the ac cursed perpetual sleeves, hats have only one part: no sides, no front, no back, no mate to slog through after the thrill is gone. Hats come in joyous, simple, forever “ones.”