I've always been fascinated with the psychological aspect of cosmetic changes: the whole idea that changing something about yourself on the outside could help spark a reaction to change something inside, increase confidence or what-have-you.
If I could afford it and somehow had magic hair that grew on a whim, I would get my hair cut at least once a week. Not necessarily because I'm vain -- granted, I am, but that's beside the point-- but because I like the intensity of someone paying that much attention to me for that long of a period of time without me having to do anything or try to be impressive or intellectual. I also like the idea of being a living piece of art, which also draws me to body modification. But as far as the attention thing is concerned, I spend a good deal of time being not so much invisible, but unobtrusive.
Maybe this is also the real reason why I go out to eat when I've had a bad day. I could probably cook a good deal of the types of food that I end up ordering, so maybe it really does come down to my ambivalence toward having attention paid to me. I generally like being unobtrusive, but at least a consumer exchange between me and a server or a hair stylist is in a controlled setting where there are certain types of protocol concerning interaction.
However, instead of getting my hair cut again, I decided to do something a bit different. I had tried to find the stylist at Cutting Crew on Hawthorne who had did a good job cutting my hair the way they did at Red Hair back in Champaign (next to the Evo's and a couple doors down from TIS bookstore), but apparently she works somewhere on Division and 43rd. I actually walked down there only to not see her in the window, so I ended up going back to Hawthorne and going into Bishop's. I did have the original intention of cutting my hair, but then I remembered that I was actually trying to grow it out again. So, out came an old idea I had: to color my hair a shade of grey. It was meant to be in rebellion against the "family tradition" on my father's side of going gray early in life, but spending a ridiculous amount of money over the rest of my life hiding that fact. Also, to touch on my more nerdy sense of aesthetic, some really cool anime and comic book characters have gray hair.
I spent a pleasant two hours at Bishops getting the ever-loving hell bleached out of my head and after the initial wooziness from the bleach fumes wore off, I had a beer. At first when they called my name from the sign-in sheet, I was afraid that Sonsirea (the colorist) was just looking at me as if I was crazy, but as it turns out, she had actually been working on a new formula she referred to as "blue steel." I almost made a joke about her coming up with another one called "magnum" but figured I already used enough of my dork points as it was with my anime and comic book references without pulling out a reference to Zoolander. I loved the fact that she was completely into the process of color experimentation. I imagine painters are the same way, mixing pigments trying to find the perfect combination. I also love hanging around barbershops just to look at the various pieces equipment each stylist uses. I'm especially fond of places that keep their kits in craftsman tool-style metal cabinets and toolboxes.
People would come by just to visit. One guy had the most adorable wrinkly-faced puppy, which was only 9 weeks old but good-sized and still growing. One of Sonsirea's friends came with another friend who wanted a haircut. After almost an hour, it was a bit of a shock to see myself butter-blonde, but I'm glad that didn't last long before the dye was put on. I honestly don't think the universe could handle me as a blonde.
If I could afford it and somehow had magic hair that grew on a whim, I would get my hair cut at least once a week. Not necessarily because I'm vain -- granted, I am, but that's beside the point-- but because I like the intensity of someone paying that much attention to me for that long of a period of time without me having to do anything or try to be impressive or intellectual. I also like the idea of being a living piece of art, which also draws me to body modification. But as far as the attention thing is concerned, I spend a good deal of time being not so much invisible, but unobtrusive.
Maybe this is also the real reason why I go out to eat when I've had a bad day. I could probably cook a good deal of the types of food that I end up ordering, so maybe it really does come down to my ambivalence toward having attention paid to me. I generally like being unobtrusive, but at least a consumer exchange between me and a server or a hair stylist is in a controlled setting where there are certain types of protocol concerning interaction.
However, instead of getting my hair cut again, I decided to do something a bit different. I had tried to find the stylist at Cutting Crew on Hawthorne who had did a good job cutting my hair the way they did at Red Hair back in Champaign (next to the Evo's and a couple doors down from TIS bookstore), but apparently she works somewhere on Division and 43rd. I actually walked down there only to not see her in the window, so I ended up going back to Hawthorne and going into Bishop's. I did have the original intention of cutting my hair, but then I remembered that I was actually trying to grow it out again. So, out came an old idea I had: to color my hair a shade of grey. It was meant to be in rebellion against the "family tradition" on my father's side of going gray early in life, but spending a ridiculous amount of money over the rest of my life hiding that fact. Also, to touch on my more nerdy sense of aesthetic, some really cool anime and comic book characters have gray hair.
I spent a pleasant two hours at Bishops getting the ever-loving hell bleached out of my head and after the initial wooziness from the bleach fumes wore off, I had a beer. At first when they called my name from the sign-in sheet, I was afraid that Sonsirea (the colorist) was just looking at me as if I was crazy, but as it turns out, she had actually been working on a new formula she referred to as "blue steel." I almost made a joke about her coming up with another one called "magnum" but figured I already used enough of my dork points as it was with my anime and comic book references without pulling out a reference to Zoolander. I loved the fact that she was completely into the process of color experimentation. I imagine painters are the same way, mixing pigments trying to find the perfect combination. I also love hanging around barbershops just to look at the various pieces equipment each stylist uses. I'm especially fond of places that keep their kits in craftsman tool-style metal cabinets and toolboxes.
People would come by just to visit. One guy had the most adorable wrinkly-faced puppy, which was only 9 weeks old but good-sized and still growing. One of Sonsirea's friends came with another friend who wanted a haircut. After almost an hour, it was a bit of a shock to see myself butter-blonde, but I'm glad that didn't last long before the dye was put on. I honestly don't think the universe could handle me as a blonde.
After two bowls of bleach, two applications of toner, here are the results (don't ask me how much it cost but I believe that the end justifies the means):
I have superhero hair.
It's sort of funny since the pictures make it look like my hair hasn't changed all that much. But in the right light, my hair pretty much looks like the sky on any given day in Portland as opposed to the rather nondescript mottled black and brown it has been for the past couple of years. Maybe another reason I went with the gray was because with the random sunny days here, I still need my head to be in the clouds.
As older bro would say, peace and chicken grease.
As older bro would say, peace and chicken grease.
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