Thursday, 29 September 2011

Hairy Stuff.

Artist and part-time hairdresser  Ron Mueck and muse. 

 It's strange, that old mop thing that grows up north, somewhere above our brow and - hopefully - beneath the crown of our heads. Personally I've always seen it as the more entertaining part of a persons get-up. Akin to the play-dough hair-growing toy and Girls World. It shouldn't be taken too seriously. Chop it, colour it, hell, shave it if you must - for most of us it will grow back. And if that is still the case, all the more reason to lop it off once in a while and see what happens. Hair grows and hats hide.
 My own barnet has paraded many different looks. The long, floppy fringe public school number, the gamine, elfin lesbian one, the orange out-of-control art school mass and the black, poker straight take-me-seriously 'do'. All of them have been fun but the best ones were all done on a whim. A bottle of bleach on my dark brown hair, over a sink at art school or a pair of kitchen scissors and a wish to look like Shirley MacLaine in the film The Apartment. A sudden urge to have an Amish fringe after a night out and various other bizarre creations dotted between. How I've come to have such a chaotic approach to my hair probably stems from the days when I would be dragged to my Mum's local hairdresser and after being sheared by the 'Creative Director' Tony, I was then paraded around the shop, my huge curly bouffant being the admiration of all the blue rinse and perm brigade before being offered my coat and applauded out of the shop. Outside and away from the eyes of my septagenarian admirers,I would throw myself up against the wall, stick thin arms rummaging around in my ski jacket pockets, searching for my ever reliable mop controller, the woolly hat. Suddenly I could reclaim my more inconspicuous look, having moments earlier born a closer resemblance to an over puffy dandelion. In fact, without that hat I was in danger of being carried off in the wind what with the size of Tony' creation on my head.
 Years did pass where I never went to hairdressers. Scarred would be the word. And now? Well, I still view hair in the polar opposite way to someone like Jennifer Aniston. Hair will never be my money maker but I have found peace with  hair salons. However, the general brief I always give to my modern day Tony is "cut it like you can't cut." And it works. Every time.

Shirley Maclaine in The Apartment.
Love her!

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Who is this Lady?

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went to st.martins,graduated as a fashion designer, worked in italy, set up my own womenswear label, married a lovely man and then stopped everything (well, almost) to pop out four little boys. have plans. will do.