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In Defense of the Scrunchie

I have long hair.  My hair is so long I could be mistaken for a member of a fundamentalist sect, were it not for my partiality to geeky T-shirts and Chuck Taylor tennis shoes. Not only is my hair long, it sucks up humidity like a gorram sponge. Twenty minutes after I brush it on any day with the slightest amount of moisture in the air, it puffs up like a before picture in a product ad.

There is only one tool that can tame my mane, and that tool is the oft-despised scrunchie.

The scrunchie has a terrible reputation, and I’m here to plead its case. Not only has Cosmo tainted the idea of this hard-working hair-tamer by turning it into a cock ring, everyone from Carrie on Sex and the City to various ladymags have called it the worst crime against fashion since toe socks.

Not to be confused with CHANGESOCKS.

The poor, maligned scrunchie has quietly helped millions of women keep hair out of their mouths without yanking it out at the root for lo these many decades.  It stays comfortably on a wrist without cutting of the circulation to one’s thumb. It’s nearly impossible to lose a scrunchie, and scrunchies are too big to be eaten by most pets. A scrunchie can double as a cigarette case, keeping your Bic snuggled against your pack of Camels. They’re even machine washable.

Sure, a scrunchie can be garish.  I’d go as far as to say a lamé or neon scrunchie could be described as an eyesore.

This one is a little from column A, a little from column B

My personal collection of scrunchies are all a shade of brown not all that different from my hair color, and none of them are the size of dinner plates, as the example above.

Scrunchies also make a fun DIY project, and the crafty people of Etsy have made an array of them in all sorts of cute fabrics and styles.

Additionally, if this badass can pull it off, so can the rest of us.

Curse the Croc, jab at jorts, vilify the visible panty line, but leave my goddamned scrunchie alone until it’s wrapped around my cold, dead wrist.

By [E] Selena MacIntosh*

Selena MacIntosh is the owner and editor of Persephone Magazine. She also fixes it when it breaks. She is fueled by Diet Coke, coffee with a lot of cream in it, and cat hair.

6 replies on “In Defense of the Scrunchie”

Just a few days ago I finally got around to cleaning my nightstand drawer, and lo and behold, I found an old school scrunchie from when I was probably 7 or so. I have no clue why it was in there. It’s hot pink with Minnie Mouse all over it, and I was seriously contemplating wearing it to the gym…this has given me the confidence to do so!

My hair is pixie short now (Georgia Summer’s and all) but when I was younger it was mid-back long. I loved to play with my hair, so scrunchies where the only thing I could use for a pony, a half pony or a bun all in one day. And being able to keep it on your wrist without discomfort – Priceless!
Ps- I love crocs. I don’t necessarily like the look of classic crocs, but my kids have STINKY feet and you can throw those suckers in the dishwasher. And, the new styles are actually quite cute (IMHO).

I feel you! My hair too is reaaaally long (to roughly the bottom of my ribcage) as well as curly AND frizzy, making it a consistently-obtrusive mass of fail – let alone its absurd length if I straighten it. I would not survive without scrunchies. I require them to function – there is a reason why I always carry one with me. Anyone who talks shit about them obviously has never had long enough hair to shut in one’s own car door, so they can stuff it.

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