Until four months ago, when I thought neck scarves, I thought three finite things.
#1. The Girl With The Red Ribbon. How the hell has it only recently occurred to me that the fact that my mother read me The Girl with The Red Ribbon nearly nightly for the duration of my tenure as a six-year-old was not in the least bit disquieting. When I think back, in fact, to the story that elicits a brand of nostalgia no scent has successfully been able to evince, I remember thinking, “Cool. I want a red ribbon.”
(For the uninitiated the anterior story trails the life of a girl who becomes a woman who wears a red ribbon around her neck. She never takes it off, not even to shower and during the penultimate scene of the story we learn why: because it cords her neck to her head. When she removes it, which she does during the finale, her heads rolls right off her neck and bam! That’s that.
#2. Isadora Duncan. The aforestated was an American dancer. She loved flowing scarves. Enough, in fact, to die for them. Which she did, tragically, at a tender 50 years old while driving through Nice in the South of France. Her neck scarf got wrapped around the wheels of the Amilcar in which she was a passenger thus breaking her neck and terminating her life.
I think you see where I’m going with this.
Still, here is #3: The movie Grease and more precisely, The Pink Ladies. Those women do nothing for me emotionally or stylistically and therefore, to bring this back to four months ago, have until now, rendered neck scarves a moot point.
The thing is, I noticed at some point last year that my friend Rosie, who has historically eschewed jewelry wearing based solely on the pretense that she is a master of losing things, was wearing bandanas around her neck.
I observed in equal parts admiration and confoundment while she would slip into a t-shirt, a suit and then to top herself off tie that red, or green, sometimes yellow archetypal bandana around her neck. Though she closed them in the front to create the illusion of an ascot, she explained to me that they were her answer to necklaces. I really liked that. Then last season during Fashion Week, there they were — festooning necks at Marc by Marc Jacobs, Creatures of the Wind, Prabal Gurung and so forth.
Considering the choker-trip I’ve been on since the 90s first surprised us with its renaissance, I thought maybe settling on a fabric one, a la Rosie, might work for me too. Encased here, you’ll find three different looks using yours truly to fashion three different scarves in what I really want to call a testament to soft jewelry.
Exhibit A features a Peter Pilotto scarf wrapped three times around my neck with my hair tucked into it. Along with the wooden clutch, it’s supposed to offset the highly casual nature of this quotidian outfit and make the mundane feel a bit more spectacula. I did not accidentally omit that “r.” (Trench coat by Mina and Olya, t-shirt by Isabel Marant, skirt by Zara, sneakers by Golden Goose and clutch by Devi Kroell.)
Exhibit B is obviously all about pretending I am French, discernibly using the scarf as a choker to balance the striped shirt, which features a low neckline, and a pair of high waist white pants. I suppose as Amber never said, I could be a sailor in those clothes. (Scarf by Hermès, clutch by Edie Parker, t-shirt by Zara, pants by Étoile Isabel Marant.)
Finally, exhibit C seemingly became about resurrecting Katharine Hepburn. Of course, I could never do justice to the actress but a girl can try. So try, I shall. (Plaid shirt by Club Monaco, pants by McQ by Alexander McQueen, heels by Christian Louboutin, neck scarf by Dolce and Gabbana and sunglasses by Oliver Peoples.)
The most important question still remains: will you be test-driving this trend? Hmm? WILL YOU?