When i was in high school i stubbornly grew out my hair into a pony-tail as a protest against keeping up appearances. I would not mousse and gel every morning like every other sap; i didn’t have the time in my day to preen.
(Plenty of irony in that, of course, as i spent plenty of time preening in high school – just not on my hair.)
I am the opposite now, curls everywhere, always fussing. I am utterly defeated by a less-than-stunning day of hair, and lately it has not been so cooperative. So, this morning i coaxed it, treating it to different products – calming gel instead of volumizing mousse, firming pomade instead of stickifying goup.
My hair looked great, curls tamed close to my head like some latter-day star. I was definitely not defeated. But, in place of defeat instead i feel flat. Just like my hair. As if my nature verve is all about volume, and i am utterly reliant on the combo of volume and beauty to equal and energetic and optimistic day.
Or, maybe i could feel this day coming on, and tamed down my hair in anticipation. The reverse peacock effect.
I don’t know.