Thursday, 19 January 2012

Rethinking scarves, not really.

I wear scarves, I have to I live on the frozen tundra of northern Canada.  But every time I wind one around my neck my thoughts go to the tragic tale of Isadora Duncan.  She was a dancer in the olden days, which back then probably meant she was pretty out there.  Anyway in the 20s , while in France, Isadora Duncan put on a scarf.  A handpainted scarf which she had received as a gift from somebody who was proabably a lover of hers, at the very least he was an admirer.  Apparently she was known for wearing scarves all the time.  An affectation?  Perhaps, but I'm sure she thought nothing of it that morning.
She also probably thought nothing of it when she jauntily jumped into her friends vehicle for a ride.  It must have been very glamourous and chic.  Not everybody had a car back then.  But Isadora could never have imagined what happened next.  Somehow her long, extravagent scarf blew out behind her and got wound around the wheels of the vehicle.  She was thrown from the car and either died from the impact of being hurled onto the road or was strangled.  Pretty horrible, eh?

So when you don your scarf, whether it be for style or warmth, remember Isadora and her untimely end.


  1. I remember reading Duncan's tragic end somewhere in my teen years. It's quite haunting. Yes, every time I don a scarf, I remember

    1. It's not death by scarf that scares me, it's death looking like an idiot.