La vie en scarves: what I learned about style from my semester in Paris

By: Charlotte Cebula

I hope they don’t think I’m American, I remember confiding in my friend before my first day of school at the Sorbonne. Well, Charlotte, you are American. She replied. Harsh, but true. 

Although I have never been known for my speed when it comes to picking out an outfit, my indecision reached new heights during my time abroad in Paris. I arrived in France with shockingly few items (only one big suitcase and two small bags, which for me, is a record low), in preparation for piles of new, distinctively French, bounty. I took at least a week to survey the streets of Paris for my inspiration, casting long gazes upon the decadent storefronts in the 8th arrondissement and the understated boutiques in the Marais. The knowledge I gleaned from my January survey of Parisian style proved to be useful, as the weather hardly changed throughout my stay. But as luck would have it, I experienced a rare Parisian snowfall.

You would think that growing up in New York City and spending my most recent years in frigid Middlebury would have taught me how to prepare myself for the cold. However, when packing for my semester abroad, I refused to bring my down parka, which was decidedly too American. I had internalized the message from my uniformed-all-girls-school days that practicality and fashion were diametrically opposed. As preteens, we mustered just enough courage to walk the freezing ten minutes (6 blocks, which could be done in a swift 7 minutes if traffic patterns allowed for it) to the school doors, wearing no winter gear beneath our pleated skirts, except for our mandatory gym shorts. I’m still shocked that we never contracted frostbite. 

At Middlebury, I embraced practicality. I was resigned to dark colors and uninventive shapes, the outfits morphing into one another like the days that seemed to blend together. On nights out, I either faced the cold with nothing except my crop top and jeans or, on the coldest days, an insufficient jacket that I hoped no one would steal.

Landing at Charles de Gaulle airport, I was unprepared for the demands of a Parisian winter, despite my childhood spent in a comparable fashion capital of the world (or so we would like you to believe). Parisians, as I learned, find that freezing themselves in the name of fashion is a faux pas. Style and practicality work alongside each other. What I found to be most surprising was the pervasiveness of the scarf. Parisians wore scarves everywhere, even indoors. When it got warmer, they continued to wear them, even if with a t-shirt indoors. I eventually asked a professor why she wore a scarf indoors, and she answered me matter-of-factly, stating that if we do not protect our necks, we will get sick. I cannot attest to the veracity of this assertion from a medical standpoint, but I can agree that scarves added a certain umph to an outfit otherwise simple.

In the same vein, I recognized a similar pattern with tights. My friends and I quickly made this discovery and rushed to the nearest Carrefour or, for something more stylish, Wolford, to purchase several sets of them. For the first month of my stay, I wore my fleece-lined tights beneath everything. Even into spring, my tights were a staple of any outfit. I preferred my tights with little black hearts freckling my legs. Once I put on a pair of dark boots or heels, voilà, I was ready to go out. 

Throughout my days at the university–on a campus that conjures up sounds of a dark academia Spotify playlist–I learned some style essentials of young Parisians. However, it was impossible to distill a singular aesthetic from them as each student appeared to have their own strong sense of individualism. I remember being struck by how many people I saw wearing this one style of glasses from Jimmy Fairly. To be completely transparent, I was initially taken aback by the sheer magnitude of people wearing these glasses, which I found to be incredibly dated. It’s not the 70s anymore. Over time, though, I began to appreciate them. They’re unique and funky. Everything is an expression of style, even your glasses. When I miss Paris, all I need to do is put on my identical glasses. They bring me comfort, and, most of all, are likely to never be lost. They’re too big!

Living in Paris allowed me to explore my personal style in a way I never felt comfortable doing back home. In Paris, I was never “overdressed.” Taking time to plan out my outfits brought joy and excitement to my days. Back in Vermont where the sun dips below the horizon before 5pm and the cold makes my nose turn red, I have taken my puffer jackets out of storage. I’m careful, however, to never forget my scarf.