I went to CVS yesterday and, of course, found myself looking for things I didn’t need in the makeup and hair aisles. I had combed through mostly everything when some bright, magical colors caught my eye. I squatted down and saw them on a bottom rack: beautiful, glorious scrunchies. I picked up the 4-pack of neon pink, orange, blue, and black scrunchies and stared at them with a giant grin like a psycho.
I needed them.
I bought them.
I own them.
I made sure my alarm clock from the ’90s was in this picture so the whole photo would feel more authentic. I keep it real.
When I got the goods back home, I suddenly had a moment of clarity. Are scrunchies even cool anymore? I immediately Googled, “Are scrunchies back?”
The results were inconclusive. It looks like some fashion people tried to force a scrunchie comeback last year, but as far as I know it wasn’t a huge hit because I certainly haven’t seen lots of scrunchies out there. I also live in a small Rhode Island town more known for farming than high fashion, so what the heck do I know?
Forever 21 and American Apparel sell them, so I’m just going to pretend they are truly cool again. If someone tries to hate on my scrunchies I’m going to cite some fake quote from Vogue and be like, “Sorry you feel that way, but Anna Wintour says scrunchies are the ultimate must-have accessory for fashionable millennials across the globe.”
All I know is this: When I used to wear scrunchies back in the day, this is how I was attacking my daily life.
Don’t let my abs of steel detract from the real star of the show—the scrunchie I found on the beach, washed off in the water, and then kept and raised as my very own.
I also made the bold fashion decision at the age of 5 to sport a fierce red scrunchie straight out of the movie Heathers when I went to meet my baby brother for the first time. He was really impressed with my fashion sense and we’ve been cool ever since.
I’m not going to lie—the first voice I heard in my head after buying the scrunchies was that of Ms. Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City. I couldn’t help but remember her verbal lashing of Berger after she read his book and was appalled by the main character’s love of scrunchies.
“No woman who works at W Magazine and lives on Perry Street would be caught dead at a hip downtown restaurant wearing…(in an annoying squeaky voice) a scrunchie!“
But ya know what? I don’t work at W Magazine and I don’t live on Perry Street, so I think I get a free pass and that means I can do whatever I want. Or something like that.
VIVA LA SCRUNCHIE!