The Girl With a Scrunchie

The Girl With a Scrunchie On Top of Her Head

There she sat, ooh-ing and aah-ing
Heavily made-up brows, eyes so sparkling

Making important observations on color and font
She’s all I needed for a poetic prompt

The beloved it girl with a scrunchie on her head
Pulling off a fashion look that makes me dread

Her fringe scrunchie so carefully positioned, though I could be wrong
But that must be the point: making her head look very long

Millenial eye for a fashion trend before her birth
Are they dressing for irony now – what on earth..?

And all along, as she spoke and spat
Turning her head this way and that

I kept my eyes on her hairdo: how much could it take
Was it glued on so that it wouldn’t break?

The point of the meeting was lost on me
All I could focus on was the girl with the scrunchie

And this, dear readers, is why I blog anonymously…

Bad poetry – check. Offensive opinions on fashion – check.

The scrunchie was right there at her hairline, hovering over her forehead! With short hair, it really stood out boldly. It was a statement: I can pull this off and be treated professionally, can you? My answer is no, I can’t.

To be honest, I don’t want to sound mean or be offensive. This girl was actually very good at her job and seemed like a nice person.

And I have zero fashion sense myself. Everyone can dress how they like and I’ll respect them equally. Dressing isn’t important to me. It’s the inside that matters. I barely have the time to brush my hair these days anyway, who am I kidding!

But sometimes I do think it’s funny how fashion trends circulate… and music too… it’s like during the course of time, we humans were only able to produce a certain amount of creative ideas, and after that: repeat, recycle, copy.

If an alien landed on Earth to study us, he would note songs as important anthropological milestones in humans’ cultural development… the soundtrack of mankind. What we came up with. What every new generation will take as given.

For instance, over here where I live, they keep playing Tina Turner’s songs on the radio over and over again – every day, year after year. I have nothing against Tina’s music, but I’m getting bored of the repetition. No, put that in the past tense: I got bored of it ages ago. It’s like after she came along, nothing worthwhile happened in music!

Why not play small, unknown artists? No, the audience wants Tina Turner, radio executives must be pondering. (Seriously though, they must’ve received a good package deal and are getting their money’s worth.)

The seemingly unrelated photo was chosen to illustrate this post since my mind flies off to a futuristic scene where that is the clock on the wall of the meeting – in reality, it’s not.

Sometimes today’s fashion looks futuristic to me: the way clothes and prints are boldly combined, with new confidence. Ensembles that were shunned during their first round are given a new chance, open-mindedly. Or maybe ironically. I have no idea which.

And then I remember, we are living in the future of the past. Like they say, the future is now. And the past just came back in the form of scrunchies.