So the dog and I are currently both under a rug on the settee, wrapped up against the cold which finally seems to have settled in for the winter. I’ve been listening to The Mission all afternoon which has a tendency to send me off into the wafty lands of nostalgia. So I looked at some old pictures. And my hair…
My fringe appears to start at the back of my head. It’s like I’ve been given a combover at the tender age of 4! Thanks parental units, I know this was the 70s but sheesh…
However, I cannot blame anyone but myself for the state of my ginger glory on the final day of school. The only redeeming feature of this photograph is my prized Ian McCulloch t-shirt. For some inexplicable reason in my mid-teens I used to mousse my hair then wrap it up tightly in pipe cleaners to create curls. I decided I needed some such bounce on my very final day at school, got up at 5am to wrap my hair (which only needed to be left in for 30 minutes maximum), then promptly fell asleep until 8pm. It was a crowning disaster. I didn’t have time to wash it again and spent the entire day looking like my hair had exploded in an unholy ginger halo. I went to the pub like this. I spoke to the boy I had lusted after for months dressed like this. Mind, as he was wearing his replica Waffen SS uniform at the time it probably wasn’t an issue.
Incidently, when my husband saw the above picture for the first time, his response was ‘Oh, I didn’t know you went to school in a borstal’. I have to admit our common room did look a bit trashed. I seem to recall all the girls stood on that table later in the day for a photo and it collapsed. Ah, those happy school days.
By the age of 19 I’d gone for the read deal – a true 80’s perm. Except it was the 90s. Oh. This is the only known photo of my perm-from-hell that lasted a whole 6 months before being removed wholesale fro my bonce. (Actually, that’s a lie, there is one other but it’s consigned to the darkest reaches of the cupboard at the top of the stairs, to wither for eternity).
The result was the shortest bob I’ve ever had. It had grown a little by this picture, taken when I was about 2o at university – a dear friend described me recently as looking full ‘…of piss and vinegar’. Cheers mate! I was actually doing a splendid job of failing my first degree here, spending too much time lurking in computer labs chatting up geeks and reading Hellblazer & Sandman comics.
I then spent most of the 90’s in the hair wilderness. Make that a complete self awareness void. This sums it up nicely:
Oh, well maybe there was one other event in the 1990’s…
We both have fringes! EEK!
Thankfully the noughties and subsequent years have seen my hair settle into it’s midlife with surprisingly few moments of abject horror. This is in large part down to my finding a truly lovely hairdresser who I appear to be following around the north east with slavish devotion. Tracy, babe, you’re a gem.
Here endeth my somewhat frivolous post. It’s been fun, there are so many memories attached to these photos (and so many more I could have disgraced myself with). Now all I have to worry about is the creeping grey of cronehood. Woe is me, indeed!