I really thought I finally had my whole style thing together, all figured out. In fact, I was feeling pretty smug about it. I long ago made peace with my out-of-control, curly hair, learned a couple of ways to wear it that were relatively trouble-free. I must pull it back when I work.
I’d accepted the fact that I was never going to walk in stiletto heels or high platforms again. (Or so I thought). More’s the pity. And mini skirts, well, I said goodbye to those some time ago unless opaque tights are involved. And even then, maybe a little too “young” a look for me (by, perhaps, 30 years or so). I had found the type of jeans that fit and looked as well as could be expected on a fully grown woman’s body (as opposed to an anorexic teenager’s). Stretchy jeans rule. And no straight legs for me. No sir. (I ate those words about a month ago. Then I choked on them).
Moreover, I’ve decided that I can (and do) wear the same few pairs of jeans and black slacks I’ve owned for years. I like ‘em. Turtlenecks with jackets in winter, tank tops with hoodies or jackets in summer.As long as I rotate some old and new jackets (always longer than 27 inches, usually Coldwater Creek and most often picked up on EBay for a song), it’s OK. Work clothes are easy. Bags must be all leather, and if they’re Fossil or B. Makowsky, so much the better. (EBay again). Boots of all varieties and my 20-year old Ferragamo flats in many colors (for dress) work for winter. The same Ferragamos, Born sandals and sneakers are good summer. Work boots all year round.
The good shoe news is that Born shoes started making some trendier heels that still have the squishy soles my “of a certain age” feet love. The Born brand was previously synonomous in my mind with words like “orthopedic” and “hippie”, rather trendy for a while in an Earth Shoe or Birkenstock sort of way. But just not me right now. When I tried one of the loftier Born shoes, hope sprang eternal. Higher heels were possible again, albeit in very limited variety. Better than nothing. With the shoe thing settled, I really thought I had the whole fashion thing figured out.
So what was the problem? Well, it always seems we humans like a change now and then. Here’s a poem my father taught me when I was small — still so true today:
As a rule, a man’s a fool.
When it’s hot, he wants it cool.
When it’s cool, he wants it hot.
Always wanting what is not.
Universal truth. I thought I was immune to wanting major change in my personal style. But I was wrong. For years and years, I’ve known better than to go for short hair all over, layer cuts , or anything drastic like that. I must be able to slather on enough goop to slick the curls back into a tight bun or chignon when necessary — and can let it go wild when appropriate. So why did I think about changing my hair? Well, I was tired of it. I was the proverbial fool from the little poem. It didn’t look right. I thought I needed some softening around my face. Blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda. Vanity, thy name is woman.
The above introduction brings me to the point where I’m standing in front of a mirror with wet hair, scissors in one hand, a few candidates for wispy bangs in another. I say to myself, “I have no forehead. My hair is too curly. This will never fly for summer. I know this will be a huge mistake. I know I will regret it. I KNOW I will SO regret this.
Well, what the heck? Be adventurous!” SNIP. And just like that, hair that hadn’t been more than trimmed regularly at the ends for over twenty years was in for a big surprise.
I’m trying to remember exactly how I dealt with this kind of “do” years ago. You think I’d remember, but I’m still experimenting a bit. Sometimes it looks awful, has a mind of its own. The hair iron my kids gave me a few years ago makes it TOO straight. (When I was younger, there was no such thing as too straight! )It’s all a little more trouble, takes some time, and I still must work on technique — but you know, I kind of like it. If I use enough “PRODUCT” (I hate that term), I can still pull it back when desperate! If I’m working outside, no one around here cares much about my hairdo. Bangs hide a multitude of sins. You don’t need to be quite so picky-picky about brow tweezing or eye make-up with this kind of “do”. My main problem is that the bangs wake up in a different world every day, and each time I “style” them, it’s a whole new look. Not always a good thing. Oh well, variety is the spice of life!
So I admit it. I needed a little change. I warned Zack not to panic. (He looked a bit bewildered after my hair attack). “It’s only bangs”, I told him. “I didn’t need to change cowboys, only hairstyles”