The
heyday of my wearing scarves was during the 70s and 80s. I bought an
Echo scarf from Suzanne's Boutique in Myrtle Square Mall, Myrtle
Beach, South Carolina, in the mid-70s and wore it to shreds.
Literally.
Let
me digress for a moment.
The
south was a place of hair curlers (hair rollers, if you will),
Saturday evening 'sets' at the beauty shop that would be worn all
week, and LOTS of hair spray. We also prided ourselves on long
zippers down the backs of our polyester minidresses. They were so
easy to step into and one wouldn't get one's hair mussed. That was a
big no-no. Looking at some of the cast iron 'dos from the 70s, I was
hard pressed to determine how a woman could keep her hair from being
mussed during, ahem, shall we say, the joys of marital bliss. I
mean, the hair, mounds of it piled on top on one's head, didn't move.
That was always a conundrum. If one was unlucky enough to have a
pull-on article of clothing, where one had to gasp! Pull it over
one's head, that was a problem waiting to be solved.
Enter
the silk scarf.
The
scarf had to be finely woven silk, not twill; it had to be slick.
One would gently drape the scarf over one's head and catch the
corners under the chin. Manuvering and blinded by the scarf, one
would gently slide the garment over one's head and quickly whisk the
scarf away. Voila! Successful dressing without mussing the hair.
Back
to my point.
This
is how I wore out the Echo scarf. After wearing it around the
collars of countless blouses, it was regulated to its greatest cause:
that of keeping my hair from getting mussed. It was a lovely scarf,
colorful with flowers and paisleys on a creamy background. It was
also expensive; the most expensive scarf I ever bought retail. It
lived a good life until one day I took a critical look at it and laid
it to rest in my vanity trashcan. To this day I use its successor, a
nondescript silk scarf purchased from the low rent district of Belks
department store back in the day when it had a bargain area. It's
held together much better than the lovely Echo scarf, perhaps because
of its peasant roots in NOT having a logo. I don't slip too many
things over my head anymore, but the scarf is lovingly folded in my
top drawer, a place of honor and duty when called upon.
My
earliest scarf recollection is a chiffon kerchief tied around my
older sister's ponytail. She had dark auburn hair and wore her hair
in a ponytail along with rolled up dungarees and white poodle socks
that she twisted around her ankles. There was always a brilliant
scarf in her hair. She must have had dozens of those filmy chiffon
squares. They were small, maybe 12 inches square and were like a
breath on a breeze. There were also times when she folded one on the
diagonal and tied it around her neck with a sweater set. In my
little girl's 5-year-old mind, she looked like a movie star to me.
Years
later when Mama and I were cleaning out her attic, we ran across
those scarves, mottled and stiff with age. We were in a cleaning
frenzy, and they didn't survive our scourge, but they remain in my
memories, bright, young, and happy.
