Tuesday, December 1, 2009
I did a Gwyneth Paltrow during my pregnancy and thereafter. I let my hair grow and grow and grow. It became a talisman and I felt like a "bunned" Indian taxi driver. I am not exactly sure of the relation between Georgia and my hair (except that her birth and breastfeeding caused it to fall out). Perhaps I was like a man in a mid-life crisis--as long as my locks were long in the back, the crown didn't much matter.
But then I did another Gwyneth, I cut it in a "longer in the front" bob. I actually (like everyone else) took her photo to the salon and said, "I want that." But since I didn't have the Balenciaga wardrobe to go with the cut, I just looked like a mom in a mini-van ad. So I harnessed my locks into a mini candy bar stub of a ponytail.
And, of course, I saw buns everywhere. Messy, unkempt, and sexy. And I was stuck with a hairstyle that needed a hair dryer--and a child, who after unfolding all the towels in the cabinet, didn't much appreciate being locked in the bathroom with me and that whirring machine. Whoever tells you short hair is easier is lying, okay?
But last week I gleefully realized I might just get a little half pony/half bun going. So when I saw a detailed "how to" get the perfect messy French bun, I bookmarked it. Because, sadly, I have to wait just a little longer.
But when I get there, please, hide the scissors and remind me I'll never look like Gwyneth.