I laughed out loud. Also if Hugo lived in Hollywood he would have a Soap Opera and a string of National commercials for every conceivable pharmaceutical where they sell health and welfare products of all stripes via follicular opulence as he does indeed sport a mansion of hair.
You always make me laugh and think- yes, 50’s it was 60’s can’t remember, but dyed my blonde brown my Dad had a fit! So got it back to blonde and long for 70’s .
Now, years later of all styles and streaks- Only good thing about Covid- I ‘m a White- gray, long haired hippy style. Thank God ponytails are the rage.
I would love to see school pictures of your hair over the years. I, too, had a mother who dealt with the tangles of a four-year-old and said - no more! I had a pixie cut/shag cut until sophomore year of high school, and it finally grew out junior year, although Mom tried to make me cut it at the "in-between" stage.
This is also hilarious - my friend, Pattie, of the long red hair, still has long reddish hair (more blonde) that her mother complains about when Pattie returns home to Knoxville.
I so loved this epistle on hair! I am not sure if men understand how identified women are with and by their hair. I was supposedly born with no hair, then peach fuzz and finally white blonde by elementary school. Around sixth grade, when my hair began to darken slightly despite hours in the summer sun, my mother, for reasons unknown, decided to start dyeing my hair! As a result, I never felt myself unless my hair was blonde. It was an expectation. When I was accepted to be in a 13-month exchange student program to Germany when I was 16, I asserted myself, and told mom that I would not be coloring my hair any longer. I didn’t want to worry about figuring how to manage my long hair living overseas. (FYI: I also legally changed the spelling of my name for my first passport, creating a new persona for myself, but that is a story for another time.) My hair ended up a pleasant shade of dishwater blonde. I cut my hair short once and only once: short hair is far more time consuming to make presentable! I had one perm in adulthood, yes, in the 80s. Never again. Now, as I creep up on 70, my hair, reasonably highlighted, is naturally turning ash blonde, a slight change, but back to natural blonde, still long and able to be pulled into the ponytail I have worn when busy since my hair was long enough to manage one.
You know, that phrase “the expectation of being blond” carries a lot of layers to unpack. What a hair journey we have all had. It is so, so important in how we see ourselves and expect the world to see us.
Haha love this piece. Long hair on women was (and still is amongst some) considered “tacky” in Mobile AL. (Enter eye roll) —I like your take on that.
But yes, over the years, I have permed, chopped, let grown out, cut and re-cut bangs…and in my 20s, I even dyed my natural blond a deep auburn red to my grandmother and mom’s horror. It turned pink six weeks later. Turns out hair with little pigment doesn’t hold color very well.
So funny! I needed a laugh today, so thanks. I permed my naturally straight, thin hair in my twenties and still cringe at my wedding photos. But Mom had permed hers, well, since forever, and I too dreamed of looking like Farah Fawcett! White “lob” now and I still struggle with it.
Well, I learned a new word today thanks to you. I had no idea what a “lob” was. Thanks also for saying you needed a laugh today because I hesitated to post something lighthearted when so much is going on in the world. But we can’t always write about the serious topics can we?
We can’t! I’ve actually been keeping it light since the war in Iran started, until today’s post at least. Maybe it’s just as important to lighten readers’ moods as it is to keep them informed? Hope so! Oh and I only learned what a lob was from my hairdresser 😆
Like you, I went from blonde to ashy ick around the time I turned 30. My hair had always been long and straight—except for a stint in the mid 80s when I adventurously got a perm. (Unfortunately, I’m so sensory-oriented, every time I looked at my hair, the waft of chemical noxiousness returned.)
I was visiting my mother in Seattle in my early ashy-ick days and she said, “Let’s do something fun with your hair…just to see what’s possible.” She took me to her fancy-pants salon and paid for a short bob cut and highlights. It was fun for a minute. Not everyone liked it. I liked the highlights but grew out my hair, which seemed to take forever. I continued to spend big money on highlights, once I realized how important being “forever blonde” was to me.
After a couple decades of that, I was done spending the money and breathing the poison. So I quit. My hair was coming in gray, but with enough natural blonde, red, and ash to create a cool effect. A high compliment was paid to me by a stylist one day: “You have art teacher hair.” Yes! For free!
The funny thing is, now, at 66, my hair is more blonde than it’s been in decades. The darker tones have disappeared (I do miss the red glints). Somehow I ended up with a blondy-gray, and I’m thrilled. It’s still long and I find it ironic how often I feel the need to pull it up and off my neck, especially in the humid soup of summer. But…cute clips! Sometimes I’ll craft a side braid. One day I showed up at my mother’s house with two braids. She opened her door, laughed and said, “Well, here comes Pocahantas.” It wasn’t a nice laugh.
But she’s been gone now for many years, and I occasionally craft my braids. Witchy? Maybe. Hippy? Maybe. But still fun!
I laughed out loud. Also if Hugo lived in Hollywood he would have a Soap Opera and a string of National commercials for every conceivable pharmaceutical where they sell health and welfare products of all stripes via follicular opulence as he does indeed sport a mansion of hair.
Now this made me laugh! I think I might need to put a picture of the boy in the piece!
You always make me laugh and think- yes, 50’s it was 60’s can’t remember, but dyed my blonde brown my Dad had a fit! So got it back to blonde and long for 70’s .
Now, years later of all styles and streaks- Only good thing about Covid- I ‘m a White- gray, long haired hippy style. Thank God ponytails are the rage.
Thanks for the memories.
Your hair always looks good!
I would love to see school pictures of your hair over the years. I, too, had a mother who dealt with the tangles of a four-year-old and said - no more! I had a pixie cut/shag cut until sophomore year of high school, and it finally grew out junior year, although Mom tried to make me cut it at the "in-between" stage.
This is also hilarious - my friend, Pattie, of the long red hair, still has long reddish hair (more blonde) that her mother complains about when Pattie returns home to Knoxville.
My mom gave me perms out of a box in our kitchen. I remember the curlers falling into the sink. I was going for the Molly Ringwald.
OMG. I can just see you sitting on a kitchen stool by the sink next to a Clairol box with your mom putting all of that stinky stuff on your head.
I so loved this epistle on hair! I am not sure if men understand how identified women are with and by their hair. I was supposedly born with no hair, then peach fuzz and finally white blonde by elementary school. Around sixth grade, when my hair began to darken slightly despite hours in the summer sun, my mother, for reasons unknown, decided to start dyeing my hair! As a result, I never felt myself unless my hair was blonde. It was an expectation. When I was accepted to be in a 13-month exchange student program to Germany when I was 16, I asserted myself, and told mom that I would not be coloring my hair any longer. I didn’t want to worry about figuring how to manage my long hair living overseas. (FYI: I also legally changed the spelling of my name for my first passport, creating a new persona for myself, but that is a story for another time.) My hair ended up a pleasant shade of dishwater blonde. I cut my hair short once and only once: short hair is far more time consuming to make presentable! I had one perm in adulthood, yes, in the 80s. Never again. Now, as I creep up on 70, my hair, reasonably highlighted, is naturally turning ash blonde, a slight change, but back to natural blonde, still long and able to be pulled into the ponytail I have worn when busy since my hair was long enough to manage one.
Thank you for the fun story!
You know, that phrase “the expectation of being blond” carries a lot of layers to unpack. What a hair journey we have all had. It is so, so important in how we see ourselves and expect the world to see us.
Haha love this piece. Long hair on women was (and still is amongst some) considered “tacky” in Mobile AL. (Enter eye roll) —I like your take on that.
But yes, over the years, I have permed, chopped, let grown out, cut and re-cut bangs…and in my 20s, I even dyed my natural blond a deep auburn red to my grandmother and mom’s horror. It turned pink six weeks later. Turns out hair with little pigment doesn’t hold color very well.
But oh how I loved those six weeks… 😉
Deep red!? Oh, how I wish I'd seen that. I love the word "tacky" and I can hear them saying that!
So funny! I needed a laugh today, so thanks. I permed my naturally straight, thin hair in my twenties and still cringe at my wedding photos. But Mom had permed hers, well, since forever, and I too dreamed of looking like Farah Fawcett! White “lob” now and I still struggle with it.
Well, I learned a new word today thanks to you. I had no idea what a “lob” was. Thanks also for saying you needed a laugh today because I hesitated to post something lighthearted when so much is going on in the world. But we can’t always write about the serious topics can we?
We can’t! I’ve actually been keeping it light since the war in Iran started, until today’s post at least. Maybe it’s just as important to lighten readers’ moods as it is to keep them informed? Hope so! Oh and I only learned what a lob was from my hairdresser 😆
Like you, I went from blonde to ashy ick around the time I turned 30. My hair had always been long and straight—except for a stint in the mid 80s when I adventurously got a perm. (Unfortunately, I’m so sensory-oriented, every time I looked at my hair, the waft of chemical noxiousness returned.)
I was visiting my mother in Seattle in my early ashy-ick days and she said, “Let’s do something fun with your hair…just to see what’s possible.” She took me to her fancy-pants salon and paid for a short bob cut and highlights. It was fun for a minute. Not everyone liked it. I liked the highlights but grew out my hair, which seemed to take forever. I continued to spend big money on highlights, once I realized how important being “forever blonde” was to me.
After a couple decades of that, I was done spending the money and breathing the poison. So I quit. My hair was coming in gray, but with enough natural blonde, red, and ash to create a cool effect. A high compliment was paid to me by a stylist one day: “You have art teacher hair.” Yes! For free!
The funny thing is, now, at 66, my hair is more blonde than it’s been in decades. The darker tones have disappeared (I do miss the red glints). Somehow I ended up with a blondy-gray, and I’m thrilled. It’s still long and I find it ironic how often I feel the need to pull it up and off my neck, especially in the humid soup of summer. But…cute clips! Sometimes I’ll craft a side braid. One day I showed up at my mother’s house with two braids. She opened her door, laughed and said, “Well, here comes Pocahantas.” It wasn’t a nice laugh.
But she’s been gone now for many years, and I occasionally craft my braids. Witchy? Maybe. Hippy? Maybe. But still fun!
- Kelly (Leavitt)