More than just hair

“A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.” – Coco Chanel

In summer 2008, after a long day at work, I walked into a hair salon that I’ve never been to and told the hair stylist that I want a change. An hour later, I met up with my family for dinner with my new crop – you should see their faces lol I miss my short hair from time to time, especially when I needed to wash and dry my voluminous hair. That’s the only time I wish I were a guy (ah, and also when I really needed to pee and there’s a massive queue for the ladies and none for the gents).

Long hair is irrefutably feminine. I like it long also cuz there’re so many fun things that I can do with it: ponytail, pig tails, fishtail, plaits, chignon, messy bun – the list goes on and on. For the body’s most versatile raw material, our hair can be cut, plucked, shaved, curled, straightened, braided, greased, bleached, dyed and decorated with pretty accessories. When we were little, my sister and I had a box (or was it two?!) full of hair ties that we’d pick one from every morning. I’d be munching on my piece of toast while auntie combed and tugged at my hair before we rushed off for school.

A change in the way one wears one’s hair can affect the look of the face and alter a mood. It applies to both men and women but I’m not going into men’s hair today. I think a crop makes me look younger and I feel refreshed and energetic. Whereas long flowing hair makes me look more mature, womanly and elegant. Wavy hair is sexy but mine are so dead straight. Often in literature, a deep sense of loss from a romantic male perspective is illustrated when a woman cuts off her hair. In O. Henry’s The Gift of the Magi (1906), a hank of hair is a woman’s greatest treasure. If one doesn’t feel that short hair is a tragic feminine loss, the story loses much of the poignant drama. In Little Women (1968), Jo March sells her long thick hair so her mother can travel to her sick father’s bedside. She is not immune to the sense of feminine loss as she sobs in bed at night.

I’ve cropped, permed, dyed mine out of boredom. A woman will often decide to “do something different” with her hair (or do something stupid, like getting a tattoo) after a difficult crisis, for a new way of wearing the hair gives the impression of a new lease of life – does it really? Who are we fooling? Is hair just hair, or is it more than just hair?

 

 

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