Well, hey there. Do you remember me? We went on a couple of dates in early 2010. I had the lobster and one too many dirty martinis. You had me at hello. You seemed to listen to my advice (making unflattering thrift jeans skinny). I enjoyed your company, and I meant to keep giving you alteration pointers and pictures of myself in outfits that I obviously thought were very chic at the time, but then… I saw something shiny and wandered off with maple glazed eyes.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to abandon you. I’ll never make that mistake again, baby.
Okay, now that we’ve cleared that up, let me bring you up to date:
Firstly, I’m still holding down the fort in Tucson after Amber abandoned ME and moved to the big city where I should probably (ok, definitely) be. But since I already followed her from Sacramento to Tucson I figured I should wait a little bit before I follow her to LA so she doesn’t get suspicious when I move into her living room. Again.
Part 2: I chopped off my hair.
I first cut it short two years ago, and it’s proved impossible to grow out. For some reason, every time it shows a bit of progress, I gravitate toward my scissors like some magnet-handed maniac. I have admitted that I have a problem. I make my roommate promise to not let me cut it no matter what, and then I find myself sneaking to the bathroom mirror while she’s at work. shooting furtive glances at the door just in case she comes home early. I admit my weakness the second I see her. She throws her hands up in defeat and I flinch, afraid she’s going to hit me.
Compulsive behavior? Definitely. But is that so wrong? Cutting my hair is my only addiction besides the insane amount of coffee I consume daily. So maybe I should cut myself a little slack. I mean I have to admit I’ve had some great self administered cuts. So what if they lasted two weeks each?
The original pixie cut I could never have achieved on my own. I owe 200% of that glory to the unrivaled Danielle Cushing of Mauricio Fregoso Salon. A seriously great cut that I didn’t touch for a good 3 months (a personal record!).
After that, I took scissor in hand and over the course of 2011 made myself look like several different species of Star Trek aliens, Lloyd Christmas, and Jon Stewart as Marion Frank Stokes in Death to Smoochy.
But then! O glory! While flipping through the New York Times Sunday glossy insert thing one November morning, I spied a Pringle of Scotland ad featuring a tow-headed, bowl-cutted Tilda Swinton and I swooned. (Swintooned?)
This “warrior girl fringe” as the actress put it, is pure brilliance. I dove in with my own brunette version on Christmas Eve. Luckily, my roommate was with her family and I was home alone getting ready to hit the town, loudly and drunkenly crash a really mellow afterparty, and pass out on the floor of my own hallway at 4am.
I don’t recommend trying this at home (The cut, I mean. I definitely recommend the passing out to be at home) unless you have payed keen attention to your stylist’s methods in the past. If you ask yours for it, bring a picture of me with you (you already have one in your wallet, right?) and remember that the the uniqueness of this cut is it’s bluntness. The line of the bangs continues all the way to the ears. And I didn’t shave my “sideburns”, but cut them extremely close. It makes the shape more intentional.
The great thing about having a super fashion-y cut like this is that almost everything you put on looks chic. Well, as long as you’re wearing makeup. On Christmas morning I was understandably hungover, and when I showed up at a guy friend’s house for breakfast, he cheerily pointed out my likeness to an asylum inmate. Okay, so I can’t wear orange. Also I may or may not regret jokingly made a Three Stooges comparison in front of my wise guy boss.
I dunno, I think he looks pretty hip.