The scarves I didn’t wear hung in a half hitch from a blanket holder I didn’t use. In a quest to repurpose the wooden rack, I freed a drawer of two dozen scarves and brought purpose to the forlorn stand. (Isn’t that what we all desire- freedom and purpose?)
Why keep any at all?
I “Marie Kondoed” the scarves which scored high on the “joy-o-meter” while the hand-crafted-by-Grandpa-Joe blanket holder measured 98% on the guilt scale.
My dad had lovingly built a quilt rack for me to display the quilts I didn’t own or hadn’t made (and no desire to do either). I favored summer waffle blankets from L.L. Bean and winter duvets from Eddie Bauer. Both stored out of sight in the off seasons. To me the blanket holder cluttered valuable space, but my dad created it. A man of few words he proudly presented it to me, and I gratefully accepted it. So now I have a 3’X2’X1 ½’ scarf holder.
My scarf collection held more appeal. Their colors (vibrant fuchsia to basic black), designs (dancing dots to silver stripes), and memories (travel accessory to costume component) brought joy. Wearing them didn’t, though, because I didn’t know how.
Sure, I nailed wrapping a wool knitted muffler around my neck in the dead of winter to bundle up before filling the suet feeder, but that was utilitarian, not stylish. (At least the chickadees and nut hatches didn’t comment on my panache. They only had eyes for the lard concoction that I wielded.) At times, I skipped the wrapping and just hung the scarf around my neck with the two ends falling down my front. Frequently the tasseled ends fluttered below my jacket hem and looked weird. Then I fell back on looping.
Deciding that learning to style a scarf easier than learning to quilt (and thereby authenticating the blanket holder’s purpose), I googled “scarf styling.”
Who knew?
As it turned out, wrapping a scarf around your neck and not wrapping a scarf around your neck were legitimate styling strategies. They’re respectively known as looping and draping. Buoyed by what could only be my innate sense of scarf fashion, I pursued other techniques.
In The Loop
The loop styles (basic, knotted, tucked and loop through) built upon my five-year-old self dressing for a snowy outing. I’d wrap the scarf around my neck and mouth until I ran out of scarf or neck. The basic loop left my mouth uncovered (except perhaps during the first pandemic winter when we erroneously thought any mouth covering deterred the Covid virus).
The knotted loop was just that- the ends tied in a loose knot. The tucked loop tucked the ends instead of tied. Both resulted in a dash of color with the profile of a neck brace.
I associated the more complicated loop through with celebrities like Jennifer Anniston and Brad Pitt. (I don’t know why. I may have seen a photo of someone famous sporting the look.) With the loop through, the folded scarf hung around the neck with the ends poked through the loop that the fold created. It reminded me of a noose. One quick pull snapped the windpipe. I hoped Jen and Brad practiced caution and kept their loop through styled scarves under their bazillion dollar coats. Otherwise, a loose end snagged on a private jet or helicopter door could be career ending.
Not wanting to look like I wore a neck brace, nor wanting to need one after a scarf end snagged, I continued my search.
Hanging Around
The basic drape scarf style hung down the front in fairly equal proportions while the reverse drape trailed down the back. The reverse drape reminded me of the capes my granddaughter and I donned while playing super heroes. I fought the inclination of stretching out my arms to fly Superman style and concocting dilemmas from which the family dogs needed rescuing.
With the tossed drape I cavalierly flung the ends of the basic draped scarf over my shoulder. This style, a compromise between basic and reverse, offered a dramatic gesture that one might adopt when exiting a room in a huff. Though not a fan of dramatic exits, I filed this style away in the remote chance that a situation arose requiring body language to communicate disdain.
The belted drape required a belt as the name implied. I hadn’t worn a belt in years, but found one that actually fit around my waist. With a little more flair than the other drapes, this style held promise.
One bathroom break and the belted scarf needed adjusting. I abandoned this high maintenance style.
John Wayne, Not Audrey Hepburn, And A Parachute
The neckerchief, the headscarf, and the infinity styles scored a no, no, and no.
After folding a square scarf into a triangle, I allowed one corner to fall in front and tied the two ends behind my neck. With this accessory I readied myself for a casual outside activity like branding calves. I believed this John Wayne inspired neckerchief style best for a cattle drive.
My head swaddled in a scarf with the ends lobbed across either shoulder rendered a babushka version of myself instead of the Audrey Hepburn one I sought. I nixed the headscarf.
Two scarf ends tied together to form a circle created a faux infinity scarf. Once I wound it around my neck, I remembered why I donated my authentic infinity scarf to Good Will. The abundance of material felt like a misfired parachute smothering me.
Test Driving The Pretzel
The tie and figure eight and pretzel styling involved looping and tucking and twisting. At first, I thought them too complicated. However, since all three appeared to be sleek and safe and bathroom friendly they warranted a trial. I started with the tie, but must have twisted instead of pushed and ended up with a figure eight. An attempted figure eight with an accidental additional tuck or two resulted in an unintentional pretzel.
These styled scarves felt right for me. I drove this way- turning the wrong way and somehow ending up at the right destination.
Everyday Epiphany
Going public with my pretzel styled scarf I shopped at my favorite Talbots. I admired my fashion sense in the dressing room mirror and congratulated myself on solving the scarf fashion problem. I was pleased to be done with it.
Slipping into ankle pants, I left the dressing room in search of a different color.
“I like your scarf,” a helpful saleslady said. “It complements those pants, but try a half tuck with your top.”
“A half tuck?” I asked.
“You may be right. A half tuck might be too casual,” she conceded. “Try a loose full tuck.”
I left Talbots with two pairs of spring ankle pants, a different-ways-to-tuck-in-your-top lesson, and the realization that fashion (and all of life) was too fluid to ever REALLY be done with anything. Closure was elusive.
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For more information about scarf and tucking styles, scope out these websites:
18 Different Ideas for How to Tie a Scarf
A Few Choice Words By Anita 