For pretty much my entire adult life, I have tried intermittently to pull off wearing silk scarves, but I don’t believe I’ve ever done it with any real success.
I’ve loved the idea of scarves for, like, twenty years. It started when I was planning to backpack across Europe in 2001 and my Lonely Planet guidebook said the best way to extend a woman’s wardrobe while travelling light was to pack a bunch of silk scarves. You’ll look Euro-chic, it said. You’ll blend right in with the locals, it promised. It’s funny how I believed those words, even though my Chinese face meant I would blend in absolutely nowhere we went in Europe, no matter what I wore.
Side note: The Lonely Planet was too thick and heavy to bring backpacking, so I sliced it up and brought only the sections I needed, then discarded each chunk as I left one country for the next. I also carried rolls of film with me everywhere in a Ziploc bag. I am now realizing that I’m a dinosaur who has no business roaming around in this modern age.
A decade later, the allure of the scarf stayed with me—reinforced by constant reruns of The Hills on MTV—so I bought a few really nice ones, mostly by Alexander McQueen, including this silk-and-cashmere beauty:
I love looking at it: the colours and design are so beautiful. And I love the thought of wearing it. But I have zero clue how.
Don’t get me wrong—I’ve tried, mostly as follows:
But it seems a bit like I’m wearing a bib and kind of overwhelms my small frame.
Other options include the classic “turtleneck,” where the scarf is knotted more neatly around the neck, which makes me feel like I’m choking. Some people apparently wear their scarves as halter tops, but they are mostly models. And then there’s the classic headscarf, à la Grace Kelly, but I don’t think I’m bougie or glamorous enough for that. I’ve never even ridden in a convertible—or married a prince! Plus, I think my head is much too big for it to look right.
Side note: I’ve always suspected my head was too big for my body, but it was finally confirmed by science 12 years ago when my first baby (my doppelgänger), was being measured at a checkup. Her weight and height were in the 10th percentile while her head circumference was in the 90th percentile. Do not question the data. Science doesn’t lie!
I think the main problem is that scarves suggest a level of sophistication I have not yet reached, and perhaps never will. But while watching all of Travel Man last year, I was inspired by Richard Ayoade—a man who truly knows how to wear a scarf—to keep trying despite my ineptitude. Surely it can’t be that hard? Surely I’m overthinking it?
Side note: “Overthinking” is my middle name. Just kidding. It’s Yun Yi, which is Chinese for “I want to look cool in a scarf.”
This is, of course, my longwinded way of asking whether you have any tips to send my way. I’ll take anything but these Hermès instructions: I have no intention of standing on a horse.
:) Teresa
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I too used to have a bunch of silk scarves and wore them when I was interning. But those days are long gone and I can’t remember even the one trick I used to know about how to wear a winter scarf so it wasn’t so bulky around my neck. Also, I have the opposite head issue — small head! I have to buy hats in size small or else they sit on top of my ears and make them sore. Beanies make me look like a q-tip but berets (which flare out and thus make my head look bigger!) are my friend. Have you done an issue on hats??