I've been putting this off for a while now, but it's time I admit an amateur move I've made: Fall is here, and I really didn't prepare. Like, I'm freezing. Maybe I'm not used to the cold yet, since autumnal weather basically just arrived, making 60 degrees feel more like 40. But my damn neck is cold. Every time I turn a corner and a gust of chilling wind slaps me in the face, I'm reminded of the impending six to nine months of frigid hell that await me.
The thing is, I'm not a fan of the bulky winterwear that's required to survive all of this non-summer nonsense in New York. While most people here live for layers, I'm made uncomfortable by coat liners, hats, and the like. And there's one accessory in particular — the scarf — I still can't quite figure out. They're bulky and they're rude, and I've officially had it. But after some light soul-searching, I looked to legendary scarf whisperer Glenn Close, and she has answered my prayers. Maybe all of you choker fiends out there will learn something, too.
Why Glenn Close, you ask? You see, Madame Close once played Olivia Pace, an American author living in Paris who was sent from above, like an expat angel, to guide Kate Hudson through the headaches of French social customs in the 2003 classic Le Divorce. And in the scene below, you'll watch an excerpt from the film that details the art of tying a scarf the "French way."
What's "the French way," you ask? "Knotted in front, one end down, the other...thrown over the shoulder," she brags. "Or... Looped around, double, and the ends tucked in." She could write an entire chapter on the écharpe, the foulard... But I'm not buying it. Or...am I? She paints a vivid picture. With the help of some stock footage-like scenery that looks like it came straight out of your high school French textbook, we see sequences of French women galavanting about the winding streets of Paris, scarves artfully arranged on their necks and billowing in the wind.
Why Glenn Close, you ask? You see, Madame Close once played Olivia Pace, an American author living in Paris who was sent from above, like an expat angel, to guide Kate Hudson through the headaches of French social customs in the 2003 classic Le Divorce. And in the scene below, you'll watch an excerpt from the film that details the art of tying a scarf the "French way."
What's "the French way," you ask? "Knotted in front, one end down, the other...thrown over the shoulder," she brags. "Or... Looped around, double, and the ends tucked in." She could write an entire chapter on the écharpe, the foulard... But I'm not buying it. Or...am I? She paints a vivid picture. With the help of some stock footage-like scenery that looks like it came straight out of your high school French textbook, we see sequences of French women galavanting about the winding streets of Paris, scarves artfully arranged on their necks and billowing in the wind.
Sounds pretty romantic, doesn't it? Such grace would never fly elsewhere, though. New York, for example, is a grid, meaning that on a blustery day, you're like Helen Hunt fighting her way to the cellar in Twister at every intersection you encounter. Forget your hair, shield your eyes, and stay as glued to the ground as you can. The wind is not your friend when you're donning a scarf.
All of this just adds to the pre-existing reason I hate scarves. I hate scarves the same way others abstain from belts. Which is, despite everything we've been lead to believe, I don't really find them practical. What's practical about something you have to take on and off so many times throughout the day? For example, going in and out of the office, it's Mr. Miyagi-style outfit changes: scarf on, scarf off, scarf on, scarf off. And when taking a bathroom trip, it's: belt open, belt closed, belt open, belt closed. These are first-world #OOTD woes, to be sure, but you can't really skirt them.
But, with a new season comes a renewed yen to live a more fashionable life, and you can't deny the air of chic a scarf gives you. That's why I'm sharing Glenn's on-screen scarf tips. I'd of course recommend watching the film in its entirety, but the clip is actually incredibly helpful, and it just might change this scarf-hater's mind. If you're left with the burning desire to get your hands on fall's literally most annoying accessory after watching, don't blame me — I'm still deciding, myself. You'll have to blame the French, and the inspiring way Glenn elucidates their style.