I owe last week’s hair stylist–Maria I think she was called–an apology.
When I wrote about my recent coiffure disaster, I decried this German-made calamity as basically the ugliest bowl cut known to man. When I wrote that, not only did I believe it, but I felt it in the deepest tidepool of my sometimes shallow, hair-preoccupied heart. I was saddened by my own reflection–deeply so–and only a hat could make it something near to right.
In the past 24 hours or so, however, a miraculous thing has occurred. In very typical German style (read subtle, easy-to-overlook, late-blooming, if you will) the cut has revealed itself to be, actually, sort of… good? In fact, it’s almost cute. And the most beautiful discovery of all has been that the key to making it look good is the following: do nothing. Really. I get out of the shower, apply a small bit of my trustiest and most beloved of hair products (shameless plug for Ojon hair care here) and that’s it. I must do nothing at all, save for a few dozen non-obligatory-but-texture-enhancing finger-rakes through its length. I feel timidly confident in announcing that it almost looks kind of (from some angles) rad.
Tentative thumbs up? Oh, and that unsavory thing on my hand is not a wart; it’s a clear Band-Aid blister bandage thingie covering a nasty burn I inflicted upon myself last week whilst experimenting with Cinnamon Sugar Radish Chips. Pretty.
One small aesthetic triumph for the past week? Maybe. Just maybe.