Saturday, September 29, 2012

SCARVES: a blog post.

Sorry to consistently pad my blog posts with nostalgia from my childhood (just clawing at my eyeballs for that emmy nod, dudes) but I kind of don't know how else to write a blog post. My life is kind of like a psychadelic drudgery, if you can imagine that. I work a lot, it's wet and grey out, and nothing makes sense. Emotions and urges kind of float around in the ether and I pluck at them at random. I bought a pair of earrings today because they matched my outfit. Like that's a thing I can afford? Nope. Wrong. I ate popcorn for dinner last night. I basically just arrange greeting cards and watch the clock run out on the grace period on my student loans, cultivating unrequited longings and pointedly not going to the gym.

Oh my god I'm so sorry, am I OVERWHELMING YOU WITH A NAMELESS DREAD?! Sorry sorry sorry. That happens sometimes. Moving on.

WHEN I WAS A KID I didn't really adhere to a collecting mentality. The idea of collecting things just for the hell or it wasn't something that interested me, possibly due to a complete aversion to anything remotely competitive that I honed early on in life. Beany babies, trading cards, GI Joes, countless childhood fads passed me by and while I participated, I didn't really feel the same wild fervor that a few choice other kids did. Unknowingly, I just let the tide of all these one hit wonders collect and abate on my tiny, undeveloped brain.

Despite all that, a collection snuck up on me when I wasn't paying attention, and it's one I can't really quantify or explain. I think it probably has something to do with my maternal grandmother. I have two grandmothers, as one must, at least on paper anyway, and while they are not entirely unalike they don't share many similarities, in appearance especially. My father's mother enjoys a style that has a purpose; a lot of sweaters, slacks, a lot of black and khaki. Fancy shoes abandoned long ago for an all-purpose, all-black men's sneaker (genius, in my opinion, and I can't wait till they call my number on that matter) which cushions and supports just right.

My Mom's Mom, however, is a much fancier lady. If anybody can be described as "swanning" about, it's my maternal grandmother. She tends to swan about wearing billowing, sheer floral blouses, tens of gold bangles on her thin wrists that glitter and clack as she gesticulates or opens a tin of cat food. She has forever wound her grey hair into a foot-high bouffant on top of her head, and we spot her that way, in supermarkets and malls, a soft grey thumb bobbing away from us in the distance.

It's those blouses that caught my attention; like paper, water; I'm finding it hard to explain them without using the word "silky", which is odd, using a word to describe itself, since some of them where at least part silk or meant to look like it, at any rate. Fabric that floated, made itself seem precious or important in some way, probably just in its utter uselessness. Scarves have a very small section of use, and even then, purpose is relegated to warmth, which completely negates the existence of the sheer. Light summer scarves, sheer scarves; there's no place for them in reason, they hover just outside of utility but are firmly grounded in the decorative.

The lovely and fragrant Helena
I took to collecting scarves without realizing I was doing it, I just started wanting them. I kept them in a hinged basket and then later, an additional faux suitcase and then later, an additional plastic bin. I never wore them, I would play with some of them but for the most part they where just there to be had, and touched and appreciated, but never used for anything. Occasionally, on Halloween especially, they would come in spectacularly handy, and I would think yes, why doesn't everyone have a scarf collection, it makes total sense. When I grew up, the scarves went away for a little while, but once I began to create a style for myself I brought them out again. I wear scarves I've had for decades, holding on to them for a reason I was never quite sure of. I am somewhat known around the store for buying scarves before they even hit the floor and have a chance to be sold organically.

Cheeseball's Anonymous

Sometimes we all have to step into the decorative circle, or else we go banana pants and start stockpiling for the apocalypse. So I will see you there, Brookline. Come check out our newest scarf shipment in the card and gift room. I've already bought three. I'm not even joking. You have to get here before I buy all the good ones. As this autumn creeps into our beds and our lungs and our hearts, so much becomes about necessity. Boots for the rain and snow, heavy coats, thick scarves, hats, gloves. No more bicycles or straw summer hats, just fleece and four wheel drive and Halls mentholated. If you need to stop in and get yourself something a little precious, a little floaty, and a little sheer? I promise not to tell. Oh my god just kidding, you know I'll tell everyone, but who cares?

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