The Headscarf Chic

This whole headscarf thing is getting more and more complicated. This morning I was stopped in my tracks by a middle-aged mother and two daughters in their mid teens buying subway tickets at the automat at Nestroyplatz.

The mother was heavily draped, hidden under billows of thick fabric, her form beyond recognition.

Not so the girls. Standing tall, their hair was piled up under blue and white silk scarves, lifted high and draping softly, leaving the contours of their oval faces free. But that was just the beginning.

From the neck down, they wore a layer of black longsleeved shell and fitted slacks, a sort of under coat, on top of which were looser, vest-like sleeveless tops, with scooped or V neck, followed by hip-hugging minis, as chic as you please, worn over the pants, finished off with ankle fitted boots with clicky heels.

I guessed that dad didn’t know about all this.

But whether he did or not, it was hard to imagine there would be any scarves still on these heads once they had left home. And I found myself trying not to think about what would happen if someone tried to stop them.