Flanon Bandanas and Scarves

Put some flannel on your face.
Flanon bandana

To-date snowfall notwithstanding, North American skiers still have plenty to rejoice about. Killer new ski and boot technology, for one. The burgeoning sidecountry movement, for another. But the most overlooked category of innovation is certainly that of Comfortable Face Coverings. Yea, verily, modern skiers are in the midst of a golden era of facial-protection options. There are products that will make you look like a shark and others that play substitute for the facial hair you don’t have. Today I’d like to bring your attention to a company called Flanon, and the simple, plaid flannel products it offers.

 Flannel is the comfort food of fabrics. Putting comfort food in your face is great, so it follows that putting something like comfort food on your face would be nice, too. I can vouch for it. I grew up skiing in the cold Northeast before the era of fleece-lined jacket collars, so I often resorted to lining my collar with the complimentary Kleenexes dispensed by the liftie. After a run they became a shredded, snotty mass, so I then turned to neck gaiters. But the best option I ever discovered, during high school, was a flannel scarf. I've since lost it, so I was thrilled when I opened a box containing Flanon flannel bandanas. The next time I head to the hill, I'll have one covering my grill and a dry one in my pocket. Some might knock me for not heeding the "Cotton Kills" adage, but come on, I'm not climbing Everest here—I'm pounding groomers at Eldora, Colorado. And I'm pretty excited for a little bit of soft, flannel love on my cheeks.

Flanon's bandanas will run you $15, plus $5 for shipping. Visit Flanon on Facebook or on the Global InterWeb.

Photo disclaimer: Flanon is a new company, so it doesn't have any on-snow images...yet. In the meantime, we thought this image of a bikini-clad woman showing the versatility of her Flanon product would suffice.


1971 Sugarloaf World Cup

When the World Came to Maine

Moose steaks, lobster, exploding vans, and more in this excellent mini-documentary about the 1971 World Cup ski races at Maine's Sugarloaf Mountain.