Last time I checked (half a decade or so ago), my step father still had the first scarf I ever knit, aged approximately 11, in shades of semi-neon pink, purple and green. Possibly he still has it (along with the 90's mega-sized stereo equipment that he also refuses to part with).
This is not that scarf. But it is the fourth (I think) scarf that I ever knit. Indeed, the fourth thing that ever came off my needles. You see, I rather specialised in scarves, to the exclusion of all else (namely anything that required me to intentionally increase, decrease, change colours more than once every 50 rows or so or cast off without assistance).
This particular scarf, created in a random assortment of colours, weights and row length (I couldn't increase on purpose, but I was the queen of accidental row enhancement), accompanied me to school for two or three winters from around the age of 16, and thanks to it's 100% acrylic content, still looks as good as the day it was cast off. Which is, admittedly, not very good.
I'd like to say that my sartorial elegance has come on leaps and bounds since then, but we all know I'd be telling a horrible lie. I have managed to control my row length issues now, and mostly things only end up triangular when they're meant to be.
I suppose, feasibly, I could knit my step father The Scarf: The Next Generation, but I'm not sure he's entirely ready to part with the old one (or the stereo).
