It's gonna get sappy up in here.
WELL WELL WELL, bitches. I can feel you judging me from around the world, and listen, it is nothing that I am not used to. Remember when I gushed about sex without condoms? Well, ScrunchieGate could be watershed moment Number Two.
(By the way, remember yesterday when I promised you some amazing and epic content for today? Well, this is it and it is neither! I think my new anti-depressants are making me stupid. Deal.)
I love scrunchies for what they do for my hair -- good things -- and I am bringing them back, goddammit!
Hear me out. You know why I can happily endorse them? Because Carrie Bradshaw, in THE most annoying episode of “Sex and the City” that has ever aired (well, maybe not THE most annoying episode; we’ll get to that in the comments section), was all, (and I'm paraphrasing) “Berger, a real woman in New York wouldn’t wear…a SCRUNCHIE!”
Ooh, and she squeals it all SQUEAKY. Shudder.
Now even though the scrunchie thing is totally true, I just hate CARRIE BRADSHAW. She did it to herself, mang! All those PUNS she uses. UGH! And like everyone else on the planet, I have seen the aforementioned episode at least forty thousand times, and her voice shrieking "SCRRRUNCHIE!", with a trill on the "r", haunts me still. I know you can hear it in your head, too!
Yes, I wanna kill that (fictional) bitch! Bring back the scrunchie and then kill her!
NO, that is too much. Hmm.
Let's take a moment to remember this hat, which thankfully she did get sonned for (FACT: I just taught Jane what "sonned" means) by the equally twerpy Berger at the end of their lame date.
Okay, so I don't want to kill her. I like "Sex and the City"! But by these annoying episodes, she was just too much.
So instead of killing Carrie after bringing back the scrunchie just to spite her (and the bad writers who gave the actual scrunchie-wearing bar patron in the episode an incredibly goofy twang and all the eloquence of Kenneth from "30 Rock"), I guess I just wanna dunk that bitch's head in a bucket. Which, incidentally, is how, if I understand correctly, one washes a ferret but maybe I am wrong! By dunking them in a bucket.
A ferret is like a slippery and slinky hamster, and apparently they really smell. I would never go near one so I have no idea. Maybe you wash them like pasta in one of those strainer bowls with holes in it, and then you spray it with the kitchen sink hose! Here, I found this on the Internet:
(I would like to dye one like an Easter egg.)
ANYWAY. The only character more unbearable than Carrie during the "Berger" episodes (I prefer season one and two Carrie, when she was all '90s New York and authentically Bushnell-y) was actual Berger, Carrie's supposed "intellectual counterpart" (no comment) and a "sardonic humor writer."
Wasn’t Berger death? I was really hoping his character would fling himself in front of a subway car, or at least get his head chopped off by one. I know you were, too.
That stupid frog-chirping machine! You know what Cher and I would say:
Using that in my stories never gets old.
ALSO. No one in New York actually collects dopey trading cards left in bicycle spokes, BTW, and if they did it would just be because they are losers, not romantic poet-soul Dave Eggers-type writers. I mean I collect filthy used Hustler magazines from the '80s that the street vendors on 6th Avenue sell with pages stuck together for $3 a pop and I am STILL judging this Berger character. Come on!
OK! Because I like to humiliate myself, let's talk about the outtakes from the ridiculous "photo shoot" (a.k.a. 10 minutes of fooling around with my lame Photo Booth application) that I did in my Vegas hotel room (pre-Wen, since you'll note my fried hair) with my favorite scrunchie, trying to make it look even a smidgen plausibly appealing to all you haters:
To get a better verdict, I scrolled through my Blackberry and started harassing my many glamorous friends and aquaintances in the beauty and fashion world to see what they have to say about my attempt to bring back this exciting trend! And of the nine people I contacted about this pressing matter, a whole three got back to me. I know, I know; I'm so powerful in this industry and downtown scene that I impress myself:
ROXIE DARLING, my colorist at Cutler Soho: "Scrunchies are way too granola. They are made for the farm. Like in "Clueless," except it's "She could be a farmer with that scrunchie!" Instead of in those clothes. You know?"
ERIC NICHOLSON, fashion director, xojane.com: "You'd have better luck marketing them as cock rings."
RAY SIEGEL, online fashion editor, Lucky magazine: "The scrunchie -- a fabric-covered elastic hair tie patented by Rommy Revson in '94 -- is not my favorite way to secure a pony tail. As much as I'd like to embrace Cat's attempt at resurrecting the trend, I can't quite get behind it as I don't see how there's a way to even wear these ironically. I really did try to think of one. Even Janet Jackson retired hers in '99 -- a couple years too late, if we're being generous. And when Cat wears it with an Adidas warm-up suit (perhaps the one item belonging to Cat that I actually WOULD wear) she looks sort of...psychotic, like a gaunt, smirky gymnast on the brink of a "Black Swan"-ish meltdown. But what we should REALLY be talking about is Cat's lips. As in, what has happened to them?"
Uh huh. Thanks guys (especially you, Ray).
And hey look! When you Google Image "scrunchie," look at these cool girls that pop up! Is that Blake Lively?
Maybe I am just glamorized by the cigarettes. Or the striped shirt! Are they French?! Ugh, I am so pathetic.
Okay! Moving right along. So this is the scrunchie that I own (the same ones that prompted New York Mag's The Cut to declare that "American Apparel has gone too far"; natch) :
It is by American Apparel and $6, and the whole reason that I have it in the first place is because on Christmas Eve I was finally struck with holiday spirit and decided to throw together a stocking full of little girl junk for young Charlotte, 9-year-old daughter of Jane! So I was shopping in Soho before I la-di-da'd my way over to Jane's crib in Tribeca, and that's when I wandered into American Apparel and bought the stupid scrunchie.
Which I then wore tackily to Courtney Love's house later that night! Ooh, it was awful. No, I just wanted to mention hanging out with Courtney Love. Here, this was her Christmas tree:
And then I decided to keep it. (Don't worry, I gave Charlotte of bunch of gross barrettes with huge Carrie Bradshaw-esque flowers on them from Forever 21. Trendy fourth graders love horrifying stuff, mais oui.)
My reasoning for wanting the scrunchie was that scrunchies are the very, very best thing to sleep in -- with your hair wrapped in a bun, on top of your head -- particularly if your hair is damaged (mine always is) and if you are trying to grow it long long long.
So I started sleeping with it -- and I quickly became addicted! Yes, half the staff of xoJane.com gets addicted to literally everything they sleep with, but no matter -- it doesn't mean we love our vices any less.
Anyway, unlike with any elastics I've tried -- and I love good elastics -- when I let down my hair from a scrunchie, it just fell in soft waves around my face.
And then I stopped tangling overnight (or whatever my sleeping hours are -- usually around 4 pm til 11), which if you've read this crazy article of mine you know is huge for me. And then -- I got super into how my hair looked in a ponytail with the scrunchie. Bouncier, and teenybopperish. Just like me!
And I started wearing it out of the house. (Several of you noted it on my wrist in one of my pictures from Vegas -- yes, I wore a scrunchie there the whole time! Oh God, I am in so much trouble.)
Also, scrunchies are lucky! This excellent slideshow from the always-stellar Bellasugar reminded me of this little exchange from "Legally Blonde":
Margot: Here, you're gonna need this.
Elle: Your scrunchie?
Margot: My lucky scrunchie. It helped me pass Spanish.
Serena: You passed Spanish because you gave Professor Montoya a lap dance after the final.
Trust me, if my Spanish teacher in prep school hadn't been a gorgeous, ex-model married to an NHL player, I totally would have slept my way to an A. Though obviously I got straight As in high school anyway, duh. It's what happens when you mainline Ritalin through the nose, babes.
Oh, and my last argument! I had thought about this before but Eric's cock ring comment made me remember: Scrunchies are cool because you can use them as handcuffs during sex, and they can be shoved like a gagball in one's mouth! xoJane.com and Say Media do not endorse, however, this kind of unsafe sex play, but trust me when I tell you that on a personal level Emily "gagball aficionado" McCombs and I decidedly do.
Anyway, what the fuck am I talking about. Sorry for cursing -- I'm trying to less -- and let's end this now! Okay, tell me what you think about scrunchies, hair health, "Sex and the City," whatever -- in the comments. XO
Cat's on Twitter @cat_marnell at all hours, retweeting trashy stories from the UK tabloids instead of working.