Scarves

What’s in a scarf? Well, a lot really. Like the objects on my dresser. They have a soul. And come to think of it so do those squares or rectangles of printed fabric known generically as scarves. They can be time machines. They can be stores of memories, with ramifications as to when and where and who. They can be objects of hope for the future. They can be just plain beautiful to be enjoyed by you or me.

Most scarves are often called foulard in Italy, its French name referring to a sort of silk handkerchief, a name I didn’t meet up with until I came to Italy. Most of what I call scarves are headscarves, or are worn around the neck, in which case it might also be a bandana, but there are also stoles and mufflers. One used to call these head or neck coverings kerchiefs. A scarf is generally square, although it might also be rectangular. It most often has a printed design, is in silk or synthetic – there’s always a feeling of luxury for a scarf is not a necessity. Unless you are Muslim and need to cover your hair.

I have a cache of silk scarves. Some from years and years ago, not many from more recent times for even though I’m tempted, I have decided enough is enough. There is one I see often on view in the jeweler’s showcase on Via del Duomo, its blues and golds as if they were a mosaic textile folded up. It would be part of my collection if it weren’t so expensive. I can divide scarves into categories, some are my favorites, others can be pulled out when I need a certain color. There are scarves inseparable from who gave them to me, or what I did when I wore them. Sometimes both at the same time.

There’s a scarf with a splashy orange nasturtium flower. A present from a friend, who later ghosted me. It goes back to over twenty years ago. I always wore it with an orange top, when I was translator for the mayor of a small American university town that became a sister city.

There are two scarves with Chinese flower designs – red and white poppies and purple iris. I have never worn them for they are too beautiful and you lose the image when draped around your neck. The one with poppies hangs in front of a window that opens onto the entrance corridor and serves as a screen.

I bought both the poppies and the iris for myself, at the Met in New York. I also had bought a second purple iris one for a friend here in Italy along with other gifts from the Met, ranging from the miniature shoe ornaments to be hung on the Christmas tree, to a bag and a t-shirt printed with those purple irises.

And how about the oblong scarf with the William Morris allover pattern? Again, from the Met and which I was often complimented on.

The long yellow silk scarf actually has a twin that I had bought for a friend. The distinguished elderly man, wearing one of his silk ties, was from the north of Italy, Bergamo I think. He always asked me how I liked the combinations of colors.  While it’s not a traditional printed scarf, with those alternating bands of lemon yellow and orange and stripes of raw silk the color of straw at either end, it was supposed to be for sale in my shop, but it was one of those things that spoke to me and so ended up in my collection.

Scarves are ideal gifts. I have two from my cousin Tommy. One in the softest cashmere from Nepal, and others from China and Sri Lanka. Should I feel guilty thinking of how little the women weaving them get paid? The mice also appreciated the cashmere scarf, and I had a wonderfully skillful friend repair the damage.  Come to think of it, that cashmere scarf doesn’t really belong here since it is all woven and not printed. That enormous not quite transparent dark blue scarf is more of an almost evanescent stole, which despite its width and length can be folded up to fit around your neck. Although at first sight you think it’s blue, when you look closely there are shadows of leaves, shading off into violet and other surprising variations of the color.

Some were acquired simply for their color, for one might want to break up the monotony of an outfit with a splash of red or violet. A brilliant green one, more stole than scarf, with gold embroidery, was made in India. The world does come together in my collection of scarves.

Then there are all those shawls. Long, heavier, generally allover patterns, paisley, oriental, meant to keep you warm in those cold winter months. To fling over your shoulder. Mostly woolen, or at least purporting to be.  But those are another story. I shall have to write about them for my next post.