Ah, finally – now that I have my blog back, I can bring up this extremely important issue that has been festering. There are scrunchies multiplying in my car like rabbits. Inanimate, unfashionable, decorative rabbits. First it was just one scrunchie – this godawful turquoise velour thing. Then its brother (or sister), an olive green thermal fabric of sorts. And now there’s Baby Plaid. I swear to you, I have not owned a scrunchie since sixth grade (okay, *maybe* seventh – I kinda missed the cool train) – but by now, I literally do not know anyone foolish enough to actually wear a scrunchie. Well, my dear wonderful slouch-sock-wearing mommy (hi) might, but her hair’s too short. So WHERE ARE THEY COMING FROM?
My first theory is that they were leftovers from the two Margarita Nights – but I mostly drove boys around so that theory doesn’t really hold, or the boys are holding something back.
Anyway, if you miss your scrunchie(s) and want it/them back, fess up and they’re yours. They are DEFINITELY going on the list of Fashion Rules as a no-no, that’s for sure!