Okay, Fine — I Have a Scarf Problem.

I think it’s finally time to admit something that has been…

simmering in my laundry baskets, hiding behind my bedroom door, and possibly forming a minor architectural load-bearing structure in my hallway.

So here it is:

I have a scarf problem. Like a… real one.

And I know I say that lightly sometimes (“haha, I’m a scarf girl!”) but no — this is beyond “girl with a cute winter accessory.”

This is infrastructure. This is inventory. This is lifestyle. This is borderline municipal.

And it didn’t hit me until I tried to find one specific scarf this morning — The Soft Green One With the Whispery Ends (yes, that’s its name) — and opened what I thought was a normal closet only to discover that I apparently have… more than one scarf closet now.

When did that happen? Why did that happen? Who authorized this?
(Oh. Right. Me.)

The Scarf of the Week: Autumn Fog Linen Blend

Let me start with the new one so you can judge me appropriately.

It’s a linen-wool blend, sort of a storm-cloud grey with a soft, feathered edge that looks like it was trimmed by someone contemplating their life choices. It drapes in that perfect, effortless way — the kind that makes you look like you “just threw something on,” even though I absolutely planned the entire outfit around a scarf like it’s 2008 and I’m auditioning to be a romantic interest in an indie coffee shop drama.

I saw it in a thrift shop. I touched it. It sighed in my hands like fabric that knew it had found its forever home.

What was I supposed to do? Leave it there? What am I, heartless?

So now it’s The Scarf of the Week. And yes, I take that title seriously.

A Brief History of Scarves, or: How I Justify Everything

Did you know scarves have been around since Ancient Egypt? And that Roman men used them as sweat rags? And that in some parts of the world they signify rank, profession, religion, or marital status?

Did I need any of that information to decide scarves are an essential cornerstone of civilization?

No.

Did it help? Absolutely.

But let’s be honest — I’m not wearing them for cultural significance. I’m wearing them because:

They’re cozy.
They’re pretty.
They hide coffee dribbles.
They work as mood indicators
(“loose and flowy” = approachable; “tight and wrapped twice” = nobody talk to me until I’ve eaten something).
They make every outfit feel intentional — even when I’m actually wearing the shirt I slept in.

Scarves are basically the emotional support animals of clothing.

The Closets. Plural. Yes, We Must Discuss This.

Okay.
Deep breath.

There are… three.
Technically four if you count the coat rack.

I told myself for years that I “just needed to reorganize.”
But the truth is, each closet has developed a specialized purpose — the way a natural ecosystem finds its niches.

Closet A: Everyday Scarves

The ones I can grab without thinking.
Neutral colors.
Soft fabrics.
Hard to ruin.

Usually worn with jeans or leggings or whatever I’m calling “business casual” this week.

Closet B: Dressy and Delicate Scarves

Silks.
Chiffons.
Satins.

Things I probably shouldn’t wear anywhere near hot coffee — but do anyway because I like to live dangerously.

Closet C: Sentimental Scarves

The ones from my aunt, my mom, old friends, college days.

These are basically fabric diaries.
I open this closet only when I’m feeling nostalgic… or hormonal… or both.

Closet D: The Overflow Situation

This is… a bin.
A large bin.
A bin with commitment issues.
A bin that might actually be two bins now.

This is where scarves go when I haven’t figured out who they want to be yet.

They’re like interns.

HOARDING? NO.

CURATION? YES.

Look — some people collect pottery.
Some people collect Funko Pops.
Some people collect stress.

I collect scarves.

This is my thing.
My quirk.
My emotional spreadsheet.

And honestly?

I love it.

I love the colors.
I love the textures.
I love the little fashion-history rabbit holes I fall into at 2 a.m.
I love that my scarves are like a wearable scrapbook.

Is it excessive? Maybe.
Do I need 47 of them? Absolutely not.
Do I know exactly where each one came from? Yes.
Do I sometimes hold them like Victorian love letters? Also yes.
Do I have plans to pare down?

…No comment.

Am I Going to Stop Buying Scarves?

No.

Let’s just be straightforward about that.

I am going to try to organize them better.
I am going to rotate seasonal scarves like a responsible adult.
And I am going to keep telling myself that I will donate the ones I never wear.

(lies)

But I’m also going to keep buying scarves whenever I find one that feels like it has a story, or a future, or a vibe.

Because scarves are small joys.
And small joys matter.

They’re one of the few everyday pieces of life that: