A lot of my childhood was spent visiting my great grandmother in a place filled with proper southern ladies. They had tea. They talked....gossiped, though none of them would ever fess up to it.
In her bedroom in her beautiful house in the middle of a cornfield there was an armoire. A big beautiful mirror she always hung her pink straw hat on. In the middle was a mirror bottomed tray that kept her beautiful bottles of perfume.
The treasure however was in the bottom two drawers. That's where she kept her scarves. Glorious colors and patterns of scarves. My cousins and I would put together beautiful gowns and Sunday outfits by safety pinning scarves together, only to make the rest of the family suffer through a fashion show at the end of dinner. It is my single favorite memory of being a kid in that house. Well, maybe a close second to her to die for cheese cake that tasted like a cream cheese cloud.
That's what started my scarf obsession. It has continued into my adulthood which is evident by the stacks of scarves in my closet. I've passed that obsession onto my five year old niece. She popped out of her front door the other day in an outfit that can only be contrived in a five year old's head. And simply stated, "Aunt Laura wears scarves, I can too!"
Today I made a fabric scarf I woke up thinking about. I'm going to make a million more. I kind of dig it. Go, Me.