How to Avoid a Potentially Lethal Scarf Attack
I found a Cheeto (Cheeti? Cheeta? What is the singular form of Cheetos, anyhow?) in my scarf yesterday. Naturally, I ate it. No sense wasting a perfectly tasty snack, despite the orange badge of shame on the fabric.
Honestly, this type of mortification disaster LOVELY SURPRISE happens to me a lot. Because I constantly wear scarves. I love them. Everything about them. The way they warm me up. The way they caress my neck. The way they gently lay across my chest. The way they feel when my wrists are tied to the headboard.
It’s possible I might be a bit obsessed with them. Beyond keeping you warm and cozy as a shot of fireball at a PTA meeting, there are so many benefits:
They add a splash of color to your outfit (and take the emphasis off of any unwashed hair and unmade face).
They hide stains on your shirt, double chins, and the fact that you’re not wearing a bra.
They always fit. No matter how much chocolate you ate in the closet while hiding from your kids.
You can store snacks in them. Apparently.
But there are a few guidelines for wearing scarves that you should know.
Do: Treat your scarves well. You don’t need to talk to them all KonMari style, but do take care of them.
Don’t: Wear them while vacuuming. I did this once while also breaking in a new pair of high heels. The resulting flailing and falling and crashing and wrestling was worthy of an I Love Lucy episode.
Do: Check your scarves for stray food throughout the day. Just give them a discreet shake after each meal. You can decide whether to eat or discard any scraps you may find.
Don’t: Wear scarves while cooking on a gas range. They can light on fire and then ignite your hair when you frantically remove the flaming accessory from your body. (Ask me how I know.)
Do: Organize your scarves for easy access. I have two special hangers—just for my scarves. One is for the winter (hide-the-egg-nog-stains) scarves; the other is for the summer (hide-the-sangria-stains) ones.
Don’t: Wear them while organizing the bathroom or unclogging the toilet. If one end of your scarf takes a nose dive into the toilet while you’re plunging, it’s amazing how quickly you can start choking as the fabric becomes one with the clog. ASK ME HOW I KNOW.
Do: Wash your scarves every so often. When the dog starts licking obsessively on the fabric, it’s time for a cleaning. (This is true for any article of clothing, by the way, including yoga pants.)
Don’t: Wear them while picking up dog poop. One end will inevitably land on the shit. That is the antithesis of washing. (Much to Suburban Haiku’s dismay, I find that infinity scarves are infinitely easier to keep clean. And unvacuumed. And unplunged.)
Do: Learn a few different ways to tie your scarves. I’m a fan of the Simple Loop (because, lazy). At the very least, have a giggle at the names of the various scarf-tying methods when you realize they sound like sex positions. (That’s not just me, right? RIGHT?!)
Don’t: Be like Mr. Foxy and just haphazardly throw it on your shoulders.
I call that the Fuck Knot.
Photo Credit: rpm1 / 123RF Stock Photo
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