>> There's a new entry to add to the folder in my Top of the Pops database of noises alongside the sound of bubble wrap popping and crusty bread breaking in my hands. The sound of Hermès silk twill with its strong diagonal weave flapping about in the wind. Compared with the other lightweight silk scarves, which I own, the Hermès scarf announces its presence with its decible levels, when met with even a slight breeze. Glorious sunshine and this aforementioned breeze has swept its way over London for the bank holiday weekend and so I thought this would be a good opportunity to add a final addendum to the, mammoth post, documenting the journey I took to Lyon to discover the origins of how an Hermès silk scarf is made.
I mentioned in the concluding paragraphs that the process of making the Hermès silk scarf, from start to finish was so seductive, that I was prompted to go and sully the Sloane Street store and pick out a fresh S/S 13 design 90cm x 90cm. The sales assistant twigged, who I was and said "I knew you would go for that one!" when I picked out the luminous lime green-based fleuri de Provence design made up in all the sorts of shades, which show up best in the sunshine. I didn't really need the affirmation. When in doubt, I always go for the pattern or print that contains as many colours as possible. All the better to match up with the cacophony going on in my wardrobe. I'm not as skilled as the bevy of Hermès scarf experts, who are imbued with 1001 ways of wearing a 90x90cm scarf, which is why I'm really looking forward to the scarf tying app that Hermès will be releasing shortly. I find that pairing the scarf up with a cap, a belt, a necklace or any device for its corners to latch on to gives this humble square an infinite versatility, which ensures hours of fun.
P.S. Tomorrow is the last day of the Hermès Festival des Métiers exhibition at the Saatchi Gallery if you're stuck for a bank holiday bit of activity.
With Lou Dalton neon harness