A Love Letter to my Red Scarf
Written by: Amanda Michelena
My red scarf came as a surprise to people around me, they know how complicated the colour red was to me, certainly Amanda from the past would have been very upset that her future self decided to buy a red garment for her to wear in the first place. I hated the colour red, more specifically, what it meant to me at that moment.
“It’s nothing special.” I kind of “needed” one, so I went to the first high street store in London to get it. Now that I recall, I probably bought it after one of my uni lectures. To be honest, when I first thought of buying a scarf; the colour, fabric, shape or length were not that important either. The only thing I thought that autumn was: I need something timeless, probably something that I would like to wear throughout the years, and something that Amanda from the future would feel that I made a good decision and investment. Period. Nothing else, no trend following, not a single moodboard or “inspo” from instagram. Just a functional scarf. And then I saw it, a beautiful intense red scarf from this high street store in London. Nothing special: cute fabric, definitely adored the texture and shape, perfectly dramatic length to protect my neck in winter but to style it just fine in autumn. But I had a massive issue: it was red.
Red is the colour of the life I had before moving to London, back in Valencia, Venezuela. During the first years of my life, it was inundated by the colour red. Not because I wanted to, it was nothing personal in the beginning, deep down I thought it was a nice colour, actually. Until the political climate changed and I started gaining conscience about its meaning. I started seeing all these people wearing red and my family telling me that they “hate them”, after 20 years, they still call “ los rojos, rojitos” to people that support the dictatorship, are part of it or to people who benefit from it. So I obviously was conflicted with a colour that didn't even have the personality to choose which party or side of the history wanted to be in. All I grew up with was: “people who wear red support the dictatorship”. And that is a very bold statement to grow up with. So having a red piece in my wardrobe was never an option, was prohibited, forbidden, unforgivable even.
Fast forward to my life in London, in that very moment my mind shifted, for nothing special but this red scarf. I just really wanted to wear it, but my thoughts were so conflictive, so invasive, so abusive, and they came in forms of bully jokes: “Amanda, we don’t wear red.” “What are they going to think?” “Now that you’re overseas they are going to think that our family benefits from the dictatorship?” “You are not a red colour kind of person, what are you thinking?” “Are you now a roja, rojita? ”. It took me about an hour and my self-indulgent, rebel side to come out to tell those thoughts to literally fuck off. The only question really was: How far am I going to take this “baggage” with me? I really let other people have the power to ruin the colour red for me, after all it was just that, a colour. Nothing special about it, right? But it was special, it meant something to my neura, and the fact that I chose it to wear on my neck? It really meant something.
By the time I got to the counter I felt both things: pride and shamelessness at the same time. I felt it lifted a weight over my shoulders I didn’t even know I had until then and also fear of what the people around me would say, especially my family. Eventually, the more I wore the red scarf, the less “afraid” I was of the colour. Coming to the realisation that I spent too many years limiting myself, until my beautiful red scarf came into my life. It freed me from my past without erasing it by embracing this garment. Now my red scarf is a staple in my wardrobe, I adore it. I never had the chance to acknowledge how precious it is to me until now.
My dear beautiful red scarf, thank you so much for this impulsive and loving lesson, because years later you have given me the gift of realising that red is just a colour (that looks great on me, by the way) and protected me from the cold, from other people’s prejudices and made me look amazing over the years, all at the same time. I love you and thank you for giving me the gift of freedom from myself.
