Gloves have their own hour, the moment between the door and the taxi when winter tells you it means it. Jonathan Burton’s L’Heure des Gants makes that little chapter its subject, and it is the scarf I end up wearing most between November and February, because it says something specific rather than something decorative.
It works styled flat, draped across a coat’s shoulders with the drawing open like a poster, and it works rolled thin and knotted under a lapel when the wind is serious. Pure silk twill takes both treatments; it holds a crease well and, importantly, keeps a knot from sliding down your chest on a long walk. It layers without any fuss under a lapel, which is how I wear it more often than not.
Construction is the French ninety recipe: 34.8 inches a side, 100% silk, hand-rolled edges. It is made in France, and because the hem is rolled by hand the finished size may differ slightly from the figure above, by a millimetre or two rather than more.
Two things I have learned to accept with it: a pale-ground scarf in winter will see rain spatter, so carry it under a coat rather than over one when the sky is doubtful, and silk spots should be blotted, never rubbed. Blot it dry, give it air, and put it away rolled, and the subject matter is good for years of cold-season wear.







































