Freja, Freja, Freja. I'm sure she makes even the straightest of girls blush. And yes, she makes me do much more than blush, but what I'm thinking about tonight is her hair. I've been thinking about her hair for over a year now. She doesn't even have that hair anymore, it's grown out to a long shaggy bob with bangs. But that weird, messed up skater-boy haircut that she was sportin' on '08 has stuck with me.
I have long, wavy, auburn hair. I wash it every other day, put coconut oil in it, braid it, and let it air dry. I am as hopeless at using a hair dryer as I am at running the bay without losing valuables. It doesn't lend itself to much other than Pre-Raphaelite. In doing a bit of googling, I came across this gem, "After washing, the tresses were plaited while still wet...and then allowed to dry, creating a naturally crimped look." The source is a book called The Pre-Raphaelite Women: Images of Femininity in Pre-Raphaelite Art, by Jan Marsh.
I shaved head head in college and then proceeded to wear a beanie for six months. God bless Colorado winters. It was also the mid-nineties and things were still all "rave-y" so with my big JNCOs, silver eyeshadow, and septum piercing, I could kind of get away with it. I was dancing at a rave once when a woman started filming me. I asked her what the project was about and she described some sort of queer studies thing and then said, "And you've got that funky butch dyke look down!"
Jen loves that story.
I then grew out my hair for three years and decided to chop it all off again my last year at college. Still raving, but I was now living in London, about to graduate with a degree in Language and Literature. Obviously looking the part for my soon-to-be-offered high power job was obviously not an issue. I walked into the Toni and Guy salon, pointed to a haircut on the wall, and sat down. I had a couple long, tiny braids with beads running through the underside of my hair (rave-y?) and I asked if I could keep those and still go short. The guy didn't even acknowledge my question, rather he sniffed, raised an eyebrow, and lopped them all off.
And while hot girl ranking plummeted with the lads, I actually felt totally confident in a different way. I remember catching sight of myself while shoe shopping and thinking that even if I wasn't a "cute girl" anymore, I looked self-possessed as hell.
In typing all of this, I'm thinking that perhaps what I'm searching for is a definitive look. Dita Von Teese does not need to cut her hair in order to look like the most self confident woman in the world.
Maybe I'll guarantee singledom the entire duration of my island stay, and cut if off again.
Damn, Freja, Aloooo-ha.
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