Wednesday, December 14, 2005

I Look Worse in Hats

For some reason, the very nice but misguided folks who've cut my hair of late think I can pull off the choppy, layered look. The kind that says, "Are you READY TO RAAAWWWK, DETROIT?!"

I'm not Joan Jett, people. I'm not even Joan Lunden. I'm edgy as a bagel.

The conversations with the stylist (lordy, call them hairdressers at your peril) typically go like this:

STYLIST: I think some more layers in here will be fun!

ME: It won't be too severe, right?

STYLIST: No, no. Wispy. Sweet. Fun!

ME: That "fun" is scaring me.

STYLIST: Just some architectural chunks in there.

(Pause while I blink and try to parse this. Stylists love to use words like "architectural" that have a different meaning in the parallel reality of chairs that can go up and down via a foot pedal)

ME: Okayyyy... Will it be subtle?

STYLIST: Oh, yeah. Subtle. But fun!

And I end up with a haircut that makes me look like I should be holding Courtney Love's purse as she yarfs into a Vegas toilet somewhere.

I'm in meetings where I want to be taken seriously as a Credible Creative Person and I'm now rockin' a 'do that says Off Her Meds and possibly Flight Risk.

Fun.

1 comment:

Dr. Gori said...

You should have started running as soon as you heard the word "fun."

Fun is the kiss of death when it comes to style.

It's a middle-aged woman wearing a whimsical Winnie-the-Pooh sweatshirt. It's the guy who still wears baseball caps and frat shirts, five years after graduating college. It's a 35-year-old who sports the same bad bangs and sweaters she had when she saw Mannequin in the theater. It's the corporate slug wearing bad facial hair because he doesn't want you to think he's all business.

It reminds me of the writer who, in The Elements of Style, affects a breezy manner: "tasteless, humorless (though full of fun), dull, and empty."

You don't seem fun because you try to look fun. You seem fun because you are fun.