Diary of a Scrunchie Girl

Do you ever get the compulsion when you wake up in the morning, to go out dressed like the 90s threw up all over you, and then tried to wipe it up with a strong dose of fake chav and Adidas?

Nah, me neither.

Are they serious though? Really?

The epidemic of the ‘scrunchie girl’ is hitting us fast and thick, and I was desperate to get to the bottom of the peculiar trend. We all remember them: elastic hair bands covered in velvet, which now back tough memories of primary school fashion parades and dance competitions. So why exactly would you ever make this a basis for a new trend?

We’ve all seen them, lurking around Edinburgh, wearing massively over-sized coats, teamed with a certain variety of dungaree and the type of trainers your Dad wears to do the gardening in. Compulsory accessories include a cigarette, a patronising stare and of course your other scrunchie girls, since there’s always safety in numbers.

My scrunchies girls and I on our way to lectures.

Celebrities like Cara Delevinge and Rita Ora have made this trend seem so acceptable that the dreaded accessory has made an appearance on Vivienne Westwood’s catwalks this year. Obviously this made my decision pretty easy: I wanted in.

However much every part of me died inside, I garnished my ears with Primark gold hoops (5 pairs for a £1), threw on an old sweater and with every inch of my strength, threw my hair into the dreaded scrunchie. Despite this look appearing thrown together at last minute, I suddenly understood its actually a painstaking process, having to come to terms with exactly how ridiculous you look.

Before and after. A significant improvement.

Leaving my room, I dreaded the reaction of my housemates, who I knew would rip me to shreds. As I thought, my close friends all pissed themselves laughing, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the reaction of other people. People looked at me with a stare that lies somewhere between disapproval and confusion, but from fellow scrunchies I received pouts of approval, my personal favourite being from a girl who’d co-ordinated her red scrunchie with her creepers.

Even my lecture hall got a taste of the action.

By lunchtime, I’d started to embrace it. It made me think: what else can we get away with doing for the sake of being ‘cool’ and ironic? If both onesies and scrunchies are ok, how long is it until all of our childhood fashions return? Personally I’m eagerly awaiting the skirt-trousers combo, along with the plastic, black chokers that were obligatory at all primary school discos.

So I encourage you, embrace your inner scrunchie. There is nothing more fulfilling than spending the entire day dressed in what in fact feels like comfort and nostalgia, but pulling it off as ‘post-ironic’ and ‘edgy’ fashion. Grab your shitty trainers and your least favourite jumper, and wear them all together. You’ll look and feel amaze. Trust me.