(If you like these style posts, check out all the ones tagged with style matters. And please ignore the fact that I'm shamelessly revisiting Aimee's post on her feminist haircut).
My recent hair obsession started with three things: 1) being too busy to get a haircut for what seemed like an age and then fussing about with my overgrown mop, 2) starting the new job and trying to figure out how to juggle looking put together at work and fitting in time at the gym before my hour-long commute and my 8:30 start, and 3) seeing a woman on the bus with a beautiful short crop that looked SO stylish and SO easy. In the easy department she beat my rather high-maintenance bob, which requires endless blow drying and ironing every time I wash it, else I look like a electrocuted poodle.
|I wasn't kidding.|
Having absorbed this equation of hair = beauty (and being, let's be honest, just a mite vain), I spend all kinds of time--valuable time, time I could be spending on intellectual pursuits, or with my family, or exercising, or SLEEPING, for goodness sakes--washing my hair, drying my hair, ironing my hair, working to pay for expensive haircuts, shopping for hair products. Think about how much time I could devote to concocting some brilliant money-making scheme, or practicing my French, or writing my dissertation, if I started refusing to style my hair, or cut it into a style that doesn't require styling. A lot! It's madness, I tell you! It's hair tyranny!
Sure, there are other ways to say screw you to the hair establishment than cutting it all off. The low-maintenance (and very popular) long-hair-always-in-a-bun style (or the every popular ponytail) is certainly one way, although it often comes at the cost of headaches from the weight of all that hair perched atop one's head all day. (I'd go that route, but the migraines aren't worth it.) And dry shampoo is a godsend, that's for certain. But wouldn't it be lovely if we lived in a world where beauty and femininity weren't tied to hair? Where short-haired women were just as unremarkable as short-haired men? Where those of us not in possession of Cate Blanchett's cheekbones didn't feel like we needed hair to hide, or accentuate, parts of our faces? Where long hair was a simple choice, and not, as it is for some people, a screen, or armour? Where I could get sweaty and shower and be on my way in the morning, no potions or hair irons required?
Sadly, we don't. And I'm brave about some things, but apparently not about this. My high-maintenance hair is, somewhat to my dismay, a part of my personal and professional identity, and so it stays. I still resent the time I spend on my coif, time I could be spending in other ways, but clearly not enough to give Hannah-the-hairdresser free rein with the clippers. I'm keeping my poodle-free bob, which looks quite nice, I do concede. But I'm also figuring out other ways I can take back my time from the demands of appearances. Time to invest in some no-iron clothes, perhaps?
|Makeup, jewelry, dress, heels, manicure, contacts, hair did--the whole shebang.|
What about you? Is your 'do a drag, a drain, a distraction from more important things? Or is your coif something you celebrate? Do you find the discussion of follicles frivolous, or fraught? Do tell!