Okay so before I start rambling on about the exciting/exhausting events surrounding my social life, I thought I’d explore a different facet of my routine that is becoming more and more relevant, HaIr MaInTenAnCe
This is meant to be a sincere apology to my poor, once-fucked locks, in the form of a photo montage.
I am currently in the midst of trying to grow my hair out to what will hopefully be a free and unmanageable length. That will officially mark the first time I have had long hair in about four years.
^The last time I had long hair it was 2008, the summer of the American Apparel Bodysuit. Yes I am 18 in this picture so feel free to look at my vagina.
I should also mention that before I went short in ’09 (and for quite a while after) I was cutting my own hair with kitchen scissors and sometimes thinning it with a disposable razor.
I was hacking at my head so regularly that I was left with almost nothing.
^This cut was based off of the brunette Agyness Deyn look. I literally used a venus razor to make the top thin enough to stick straight up and it still barely ever did. I would show you the one picture of my attempt to pull that off, but I look like a dead straight guy.
Then my brother started dating a hair stylist and I was able to take advantage of her kindness enough that she shaped what became my signature look, the curly ass top mop with the buzzed back and sides. We used to have buzz parties at 506 Church when all the boys and Jesi and I had slightly different versions of the same haircut. I would still refer to it as “The Official Haircut of TBT.”
^I cannot even begin to describe the amount of cool I correctly believed I was at the time of this photo. As cool as anyone can be in the study lounge of UNC’s Koury residence hall (not very).
I held true to that asymmetry, knowing how awkward it would be to grow out (I tried once and wore a beanie for about 6 months before buzzing it again).
^In the fall of 2010. You can see how Reid and I have the same basic shape to our hurr. You can also see that I’m wearing a children’s faux fur from Limited Too and that Reid is carrying a Coors Light box as a purse. Anthropological gold mine, this photo.
So, fine. I was stuck with the same hair well into 2011. But I got to have that cool topknot all the boys think is soooOOo hot and original these days.
In the Spring of 2011, I had Hannah dye chunks of the brown purple and blue.
When I decided to go blonde that Summer the color she’d used for those chunks was impossible to be bleached out and we had to darken that section to a light brown.
When Winter came along, I wanted to go even lighter and for reasons I cannot recall chose to darken that chunk in contrast. It was sort of a goth-tramp look.
In April I went blonder than I had ever been before. The blondest of the blonde. I felt like my brown hair had emphasized my accountability, indulged my realism…you know, helped me give fucks. I was so obsessed with my new hair I could hardly remember my reason for living before the transformation. Being blonde gave me LIFE.
My decision to go crazy with Manic Panic in all-over magenta only a month later came suddenly. I was moving to New York. I had just gotten dumped. Sarah Sassafrass was right there with an array of semi-permanent colors. I went for it.
^Me v pink, giving face at myself in the mirror. The usual.
It washed out by July and left me with honey blonde locks that, while my ideal color, felt entirely like straw. I had always used cheap shampoo and conditioner until this year. Probably for the same reason I used to cut my hair with kitchen scissors. Probably for the same reason I boycotted blankets in the Winter of ’05. I am very good at rationalizing laziness.
^V bored and emo. You can kind of see that I straightened the ends here, which I fell into the habit of doing for the rest of the summer. It also destroyed about half of my hair as it had been zapped of its nutrients from all the coloring in the first place.
So I had a haircut that, okay, it didn’t suck I guess. But I was struggling to figure out how to grow the short brown sides while still blending them with the long blonde ends.
Last month I started working part-time as a receptionist a hair salon (as you know, I don’t like to use proper nouns until I can’t get fired from those proper nouns). It allows me to afford my apartment, which at 725/month is about 2.5x what I used to pay in North Carolina and considered a steal for most of habitable Brooklyn. Despite the fact that I have been taking better care of my hair recently–Redken extreme antisnap treatment, seriously it’s the shit–a large part of my job involved stylists looking at my hair and saying “what are we going to do with this…?” or “wow, you’ve got a situation” or my personal favorite, silently running their fingers through my hair with their lips pursed while I work. Luckily I have a good sense of humor and irrationally high self-esteem. But the other night I decided to bite the bullet and have Hannah cut me a reasonable adult haircut that doesn’t look like Daffy Duck after his head got smashed in a piano. She blended the regrowth with a reddish brown tone, and I was left with a what I believe to be very chic version of Juila Stiles cut in The Prince and Me (a movie I have not actually seen).
THIS IS A MAJOR STEP FOR ME. I feel like I can be taken a bit more seriously now with semi-norm hair, which may have been a necessary adjustment? It’s also important to start making investments at this stage in life. I have no excuse not to buy the proper treatments for my hair just because they cost 20 dollars, when I would spend that much on a Monday night buying a personal deep dish pizza that will ruin my entire week. Spending money on things you actually need feels really good. In the end I’ll probably waste the rest on food and alcohol, but if i’m going to be broke with a fat ass I WILL AT LEAST HAVE THICK, HEALTHY, LUXURIOUS HAIR.
I’ll tell 2001 you said hey.