Evidence that Fran's career as a fashion icon is only just beginning
According to the Chinese Zodiac, 2015 is the Year of the Sheep, but I beg to differ. For me, it will be the Year of the Scarf. I have suffered a bare, cold neck for 52 years, thinking scarves didn't suit me, and endured an 'on-off-on-off-on-off' relationship with my husband husband's attitude to the central heating all that time, too. Those of you who live with someone who has a different temperature gauge to your own will know EXACTLY what I mean by that.
Something has to change. And as my husband makes a mean rice pudding and pulls the sofa out when he vacuums the house, I think I'll try scarves rather than divorce.
I wrote about scarves in February this year - I was clearly warming up to my dramatic conversion - and I gave you a link to awet-your-pants-comedy deadly-serious and illuminating video which demonstrates 25 different ways to wear a scarf. Here's a link back to that post. February's anxieties about scarf-wearing
So, I went shopping for scarves on Saturday. I received a sparkly one for Christmas by an evangelistic-about-scarves friend and, on finding that it didn't make me look too ridiculous, I decided to go and buy more. The scarf she bought me looks a bit like this. It's a reasonable size, it's neat, and behaves, as it should, like an accessory.
Why is it, then, that most of the scarves in the shops look like this, not like an accessory, but more like an invasion?
Short play entitled 'Shopping for Scarves.'
Cast: 1. Shop Assistant. 2. Customer - Mrs Yours-Truly.
Setting: Shop. Saturday morning.
'This one, Madam?'
'No, I don't want a spare king-size duvet cover. I want a scarf.'
'This one?'
'No. I'd like to live for a little longer, not die of accidental suffocation before I'm 53.'
'Maybe this one?'
'Shrouding four-fifths of my height in cotton will leave only my feet on public view. I will look like a walking pile of laundry.'
'This one?'
'I think you misheard. It's just for me, not for me plus extended family group and assorted friends.'
'What about this one?'
'That could keep Greenland warm. We're only talking 'one neck' here.'
'Try this one?'
'Isn't that one just for people who never need to get through doors?'
'This woolly cream one?'
'If a sheep tries to mate with me on my way out of here, you would be to blame.'
'How about this? Try this on. Here, let me put it on you.'
'Mfn mfn mmmfff nggfff mnnggffffhh.'
In the end, after much trial and tribulation, I arrived home with four reasonably-sized scarves which didn't make me look as though I'd been ambushed by a more powerful force. Three were from the Oxfam shop and one was £6 from Monsoon (down from £22 in the sale, and it's barely bigger than a handkerchief. Criminal price.) Then, yesterday, I opened a present from my sister (late pressie-swapping session) and it was a dinky little purple scarf to add to my collection.
None of them has asphyxiated me so far, hence I am still alive to inflict this blog post on you. Happy Year of the Scarf to you all.
Something has to change. And as my husband makes a mean rice pudding and pulls the sofa out when he vacuums the house, I think I'll try scarves rather than divorce.
I wrote about scarves in February this year - I was clearly warming up to my dramatic conversion - and I gave you a link to a
So, I went shopping for scarves on Saturday. I received a sparkly one for Christmas by an evangelistic-about-scarves friend and, on finding that it didn't make me look too ridiculous, I decided to go and buy more. The scarf she bought me looks a bit like this. It's a reasonable size, it's neat, and behaves, as it should, like an accessory.
Why is it, then, that most of the scarves in the shops look like this, not like an accessory, but more like an invasion?
Short play entitled 'Shopping for Scarves.'
Cast: 1. Shop Assistant. 2. Customer - Mrs Yours-Truly.
Setting: Shop. Saturday morning.
'This one, Madam?'
'No, I don't want a spare king-size duvet cover. I want a scarf.'
'This one?'
'No. I'd like to live for a little longer, not die of accidental suffocation before I'm 53.'
'Maybe this one?'
'Shrouding four-fifths of my height in cotton will leave only my feet on public view. I will look like a walking pile of laundry.'
'This one?'
'I think you misheard. It's just for me, not for me plus extended family group and assorted friends.'
'What about this one?'
'That could keep Greenland warm. We're only talking 'one neck' here.'
'Try this one?'
'Isn't that one just for people who never need to get through doors?'
'This woolly cream one?'
'If a sheep tries to mate with me on my way out of here, you would be to blame.'
'How about this? Try this on. Here, let me put it on you.'
'Mfn mfn mmmfff nggfff mnnggffffhh.'
In the end, after much trial and tribulation, I arrived home with four reasonably-sized scarves which didn't make me look as though I'd been ambushed by a more powerful force. Three were from the Oxfam shop and one was £6 from Monsoon (down from £22 in the sale, and it's barely bigger than a handkerchief. Criminal price.) Then, yesterday, I opened a present from my sister (late pressie-swapping session) and it was a dinky little purple scarf to add to my collection.
None of them has asphyxiated me so far, hence I am still alive to inflict this blog post on you. Happy Year of the Scarf to you all.
Haha! Love it :) I will never let you forget you once declared the impossibility of being a scarf lover. Steve and I had an on-going central heating tiff for years until I kept getting heavy colds in the winter so we reached an amicable agreement of 20 degrees though he frequently removes outer clothing declaring it's too hot...Good giggle for a Monday. Thanks. Perhaps you should post at the beginning of every week to start us all off with a smile instead of a grimace...
ReplyDeleteSo, Steve removing his outer clothing is a good giggle for a Monday? Have you mentioned this to him?
DeleteI'm rather neutral when it comes to scarves. Some i like and some I don't. It's probably more about confidence than anything else. I'm just waiting for capes to come back into style. I love capes.
ReplyDeleteThen all you'd need was the blue T-shirt with the big S on it.
DeleteI have some scarves. I love them, but I never wear them. I know I'll dribble food and drink on them. If you want a great, soft scarf, check out Joanne Noragon who blogs at A Cup On The Bus. She has an etsy shop with HANDWOVEN scarves. They are soft and beautiful. I sent one to The Hurricane for Christmas since I am not worthy of such a scarf.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Janie
Surely that could be an advantage - if you dribble on the scarf, that saves on washing your cardigans. I will check out Joanne's site, although I may also try weaving my own out of discarded drafts of my books. I have plenty of material there.
DeleteI'm thinking of wallpapering my house with rejection letters, and I don't mean rejections from publishing companies alone. All sorts of rejections. No, I don't want to make love to you. No, you can't use my credit card. No, I will not give you money. NO NO NO NO
DeleteThat would make fabulous wallpaper. Who'd need books with walls like that to read?
DeleteI plan on wearing a few scarves myself in the not-too-far-away future, not all at once of course, one at a time will do. I've worn them in winter to keep warm, but now that I have chest wrinkles and my neck is beginning to follow suit, I'll invest in a silk scarf or two for summer wear, loosely draped, just to hide the crepe-paper look.
ReplyDeleteI don't understand wrinkles. I fill out all my skin very adequately and yet I still have creases.
DeleteJust make sure you don't do an Isadora Duncan...!
ReplyDeleteI had to google it - arrrgggh, no! I wasn't expecting that. All the more reason to buy only small ones then ....
DeleteExcellent ! But have you encountered the infinity scarf yet ?
ReplyDeleteYou may be able to wear one with flair , not to mention elan ... I looked like a mushroom .
I just looked it up. No, I don't think so. I can see the mushroom potential for me too.
DeleteI love scarves!! It's a wardrobe must have over here in Germany. The choice is amazing. The only down side is spending too much because I can never make up my mind. I have two drawers full of them. The good thing is I don't have a shoe fettish :) Wear them with pride!
ReplyDeleteI've only got one scarf drawer so far, and to be fair it's not even half-full. I have some way to go!
DeleteHa! I appreciate the link. Clearly (to me after viewing photos taken) I'm in need of a refresher course. Also work for dressing up those boring plain color tshirts I wear and hiding this new neck that has appeared as I age.
ReplyDeleteEnjoy your new look - and stay warm.
It's either that or polo neck jumpers, but they always make me look as though my head is separate from my body, like one of those decapitated ghosts.
DeleteWorking in a charity shop, I often try the scarves on & think, " Oh, I'll get that " to my daughter's disbelief that I've come home with another scarf !
ReplyDeleteI bet! I'm beginning to find you don't have to pay through the nose. Charity shops are great sources of scarves.
DeleteI love scarves, mostly as a distraction from my middle lumpy bits. 'Look, look up here...ignore the food baby'. Although in Brisbane we only get winter for one week of the year, so scarves are more about fashion than function. And I have a heap of 'costume scarves' for my scripture lessons.
ReplyDeleteThat made me laugh!
DeleteI cannot wear scarves while cooking (would go up in flames) or eating (dribble problem) and never think about it otherwise other than outside in the winter (essential. This is Edinburgh). My younger daughter often wears them indoors and looks stylish. But then she's young, slim and stylish even without scarves.
ReplyDeleteThat's the thing, knowing how to make them look stylish. I'm just not managing it yet. I'd wear a woolly scarf the whole day if I thought people wouldn't see it as strange.
DeletePeople see it as strange ?
DeleteOh .