For the Love of a Scrunchie

Yes, that kind of scrunchie.

Glasses + retainer from 9th grade + scrunchie from 4th grade  = dream girl.  Not to mention I own two cats....

Glasses + retainer from 9th grade + scrunchie from 4th grade = dream girl.
Not to mention I own two cats….

Being that I consider myself somewhat fashionable, it may surprise you to know that I still have two scrunchies from my elementary years.

For real.

I still own the black one pictured above in the tangled mess of fuchsia and sorta blonde hair and the purple one below that I bean walked my ass off on my aunt Marilyn’s farm to purchase (now, I got more than a scrunchie with my loads of money from walking bean fields….I also got a tie dyed shirt. Obviously I put my money to expert use).

Hard earned hair acccessory.

Hard earned hair accessory.

Although I hoard scrunchies from decades ago, this does not mean that I condone wearing anything of the sort in public. I feel so strongly about this, I have risked jobs and friendships, saving folks from public embarrassment.

A few years ago while at an extremely new place of employment, I spotted my boss sitting at her desk with a white scrunchie in her gorgeous hair. And while I hadn’t quite figured out our working relationship boundaries yet (being that I was her assistant) I felt it my womanly duty to rip it out of her hair.

Well, actually I walked up behind her and as I slid it off of her hair I leaned in and whispered, “We don’t wear these in public. Trust me.”

Um, no.

About to be unemployed but I don’t care.

Horrified at my casual approach and sure as shit I was about to be fired, she laughed and said thank you. We’re still gal pals to this day thanks to my brazen move in the name of fashion.

Fuck that noise. No boss of mine will sport a scrunchie

Fuck that noise. No boss of mine will sport a scrunchie even though I wear tiny sombreros and t-shirts announcing my crazy cat lady status.

And then there’s my old band manager I ran into at the mall one afternoon.

I expected so much more than….

Manager fail.


While I can’t agree with his white socks and black sneaker approach, it was the teeny, tiny piece of material stuck in the layers of curls that made my skin crawl.

NOT blending in.

Scrunchie not blending in Dude.

Being that I didn’t work for my buddy, I could be a little more blunt in expressing how insane it was to see a grown man wearing a scrunchie.

Someone actually procreated with you?! TWICE?!

Someone actually procreated with you?!

A mere two seconds later, the scrunchie was mine and my buddy was back to being, well, my buddy.

Yep. Back to being a bonafide '80s rocker

Yep. A bona fide ’80s rocker.

So it may surprise you that I actually do wear a scrunchie.

CBXB shocker!

CBXB shocker!

But I only sport these little pieces of fashion fails on two occasions.

I wear one to keep myself cool when I sleep within the confines of bedroom walls.

Night sweat no more.

Night sweats no more thanks to my ancient accessory.

Even love it when it gets stuck in my mane.

I still even love this piece of shit when it gets stuck in my mane every morning.

The other occasion in which I wear something so taboo is a deep, dark scrunchie secret.

I wear it to perfect my bun.

Which means I technically wear a scrunchie in public.


Bun magic

Magic mane compliments of my scrunchie.

Nice, plump, round.

Scrunchilicious bun secret.

Hey-oh. But why would I ever let anyone in on my bun magic?

But you can bet your ass I ever let anyone in on my bun magic…except all of you.

So there I am, going along happily in life with my stealthy scrunchie use until…


Visiting Iowa, I was certain that I left it in my sister’s guest bedroom. And quickly resigned to the fact that I’d never see this beloved piece of my hair history again due to the fact that she has 18 month old twins and a dog that likes to eat everything.


Goodbye my love.

What will keep me cool at night?!

How will a bun ever be the same?!

But then I remembered I still had a purple scrunchie from 4th grade.

I think I found it in my Caboodle.

Be still my beating heart.

Be still my beating heart.

As I went to sleep that evening, reaching for the limp pile of aged elastic and who-knows-how-many-germs-its infested-with-material, I heard a snap.




My purple piece of shit went to scrunchie heaven, as the decades old elastic finally died (most likely committing suicide).

Finding myself empty-handed, I did the only thing I could think of to console myself.

I headed to Claire’s Boutique – a store I haven’t stepped foot in since I was a gal on the hunt for prom accessories in high school.  Upon entering the overstuffed store, a sweet girl who was maybe fifteen greeted me and instantly looked baffled when I told her I was in dire need of a scrunchie.

“A what?” she asked.

“A scrunchie. You know, a hair tie with material around it,” I exasperatingly explained as I felt a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek.

Feeling 101 years old (and thinking the music was blaring too loudly, further solidifying my oldness), I followed her to the back of the store to the clearance section where she announced…

“This stuff has been here since before I started working here two years ago. Maybe you’ll find something to help you out.”

Um, what the fuck 14-year-old?!

Um, what the fuck 15-year-old?!

The new take on scrunchies are pieces of fake fur wrapped around elastic that are about as durable as an earthworm on a dry day, which would be why they were on clearance for 99 cents.

I mean, seriously?

I mean, seriously?

Giving up on Claire’s, I headed to the mall where my fashion world was rocked so hard, my head still hurts. While perusing the endless goodness at Nordstrom, I saw a rack of scrunchies in the accessory department.

Fucking scrunchies.

At Nordstrom.

Fucking silk scrunchies at Nordstrom.

What has this world come to?

Search to replace. Nordstrom FAIL. FAIL. FAIL! Especially with silk scrunchies. Old people lunch tables in nursing homes is hte only place this is acceptable.

These are only acceptable on white hair around a nursing home lunch table, mmmkay?

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I did both.

Still crying tears of scrunchie sadness.

Scrunchie sadness combined with the hilarity of an upscale department store selling them in silk.

Knowing that I would never again sleep at night without waking up to a crease in my typically straight ‘do and also knowing my bun days were over, I started to try and begin mending my broken haired heart.

But then…

Mama CBXB returned from another trip to Iowa and had a surprise for me.


BUT WAIT! My sister found it. And is my hero.

My antique hairpiece is back!

All of this agony over the love of a scrunchie.

Stop judging me.



34 thoughts on “For the Love of a Scrunchie

  1. kellisamson says:

    Oh, honey. I still have my Caboodle, if it’s any consolation. Only now it holds my tools :). It still retains that lovely Caboodle smell, however. Long live the scrunchies!

  2. Hmm, I just realized that I don’t own scrunchie. I feel like I missed out on the good old days.

  3. Nancy says:

    Put in new elastic….

  4. JMC813 says:

    Scrunchie MADNESS. Back in the day, when my hair was long I hated ponytails but would usually resort to the fabric coated elastic things cuz rubber bands would rip a dudes hair out. LOL. But scrunchies???? NEVERRRR. You are a good friend for making you former band mgr remove said object from his hair. That is SO NOT METAL dude. Glad the original black one made it’s way back to you. There just is no substitute for old school

    • “They just don’t make ’em like they used to” is now a phrase that I uttered which now makes me slightly less fun and way more old feeling. BUT IT’S TRUE! And while my bluntness can often be mistaken for rudeness, a gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do to get those damn scrunchie’s outta hair in public!

  5. I don’t go anywhere without my scrunchie. It holds my merkin in place!

    Also, you look insane in that first pic!

    • Well wearing a retainer and glasses while trying to dismantle a tangled scrunchie from your hair would make you look insane too! Oh, and I had two cats circling my feet. Gee, it’s a wonder I’ve never been married, huh?! 🙂

  6. Phil Lanoue says:

    That band manager dude looks like Skrillex *retired*.

  7. Crystal says:

    You’re totally my scrunchie sister from another mister! I have a total of five scrunchies from my elem/middle school days that I am holding on to for dear life. They are only used at home, and couldn’t sleep without one holding back my mass of curly hair. When I do have it straight, my scrunchie holds my hair back without marks just like you described! Genius! Glad your mother found yours, let me know if you need a backup, I’ll donate one to you. 🙂

    • Crystal! Thank GAWD I know I have an emergency back up plan if I ever lose my one last true scrunchie! Funny how these little outcasts of fashion are still hanging around in our houses, isn’t it? And how old do I feel when I say, “they don’t make them like they used to.” But it’s true! They just don’t, which is how you know the direness of my situation. Please take good care of your five…(oh and color me impressed that you kept five around!).

  8. TARGET. I get mine at Target. I LOVE scrunchies, wear them in public, I know you hate them, I’ve had friends throw them away, but I’ll hide them when you visit. Unless you want to borrow one, that is. PS They ARE washable, you know lol

    • Princess Rosebud….I am speechless. Although I did know you wore scruchies but I didn’t know every day. So, when I do visit, please hide all of them or I might try to take them out of your luscious locks…that is until bedtime when I need to borrow one for my hair. And who would have thought a scrunchie could be washed….the blonde has definitely invaded my brain! XOXO

  9. Jolene says:

    I couldn’t help but think of the scene from SATC when Carrie makes a comment to dumb ass burger about a character in his book who sports a scrunchie! ! Haha

    (whispers) my caboodle was packed with scrunchies to!!!

  10. markbialczak says:

    I can relate. When I hit 35, I went through a ponytail stage. But I used a plain rubber band. A scrunchie would have been so much cooler, literally and figuratively. Oh, FYI, or is it TMI, the too-scraggly ponytail lasted, say, three months? Love your bun CBXB. 🙂

    • There’s never TMI over here, Mark! I would have been happy to lend you one of my scrunchies. I probably would have given you the purple one so it could have been a stand out in your scraggly ponytail. Would have been gorgeous!

      • markbialczak says:

        I always tried to grab the red rubber band, for the same reason, pure gorgeousness in my scraggly hair! Thanks, CBXB for your purple support!!

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