Fresh Cut
My last haircut was something I was immensely proud of. I took a picture of Tony Leung to my hairdresser and said I wanted to look like him. It was closely cropped next to my ears, but slicked back a little higher up, and voluminous at the top. During the mornings, I would shower, towel to damp, apply pomade, blow-dry, wax, and hairspray. This ritual took thirty minutes every day. I never traveled without a hairdryer, seldom passed a mirror without checking my reflection, and always had a little can of hairspray in my bag. I was acutely aware of the wind direction and deeply despised any sort of precipitation.
It gave me a sense of pride because I looked polished. It was clear that it was something requiring effort, signalling an interest and dedication to upholding appearances. It was also different from the undercut that everyone else had, or the perms that were becoming increasingly popular. It was well-regarded in most of my social circles, be it friends, family, or work, and often a point of note. If I had to liken the style to an article of clothing, it’d be a tailored two-piece houndstooth suit. Not quite as versatile as casual as a simple blazer, and immensely more versatile than a there-piece or a tuxedo. It was perfectly at home during a day at the office or a night out though a bit out of place in every other milieu. Worn by the wrong person, it could be stodgy or even conceited, but my demeanour and humour kept it as anything but. Like the fun sibling of navy suit, the haircut was a variation of the “short on the sides, long on the top, undercut”.
My last haircut was something I was immensely proud of. My last haircut was also twenty months ago.
Today, my hair sits just below my shoulders when its down, and just above the tips of my ears when its in a bun. I was happy that the pandemic provided me with an opportunity to grow my hair past the awkward stage, and I started being able to tie it back as soon as social gatherings were allowed. I was thrilled when I could start tying my hair higher and higher atop my head, and the compliments started coming in from friends the way they do whenever someone tries something new. But now, I’m not so sure how I feel about it.
It is still pin-straight, which means I only wear it down in public after it has been in a bun for a while, the tightness of the hair tie lending it wavy undulations, but not quite curled locks. My mother makes protestations and my father asks me when I’m going to get it cut. My friends’ opinions are more varied, but support has gradually diminished over time. The floor of my condo is littered with long strands of black hair; previously they were so short that they were unnoticeable, but I now vacuum twice a week. After toweling dry my hair, it takes a couple of hours to fully dry, leaving the back of my shirt damp in the process.
If I had to liken my current hairstyle to an article of clothing, it’d be combat boots. Not singular in purpose, but much narrower in range. They usually symbolize some sort of rebellion, be it punk, metal, or rock. There are still many outfit combinations crossing various styles, but there are some places where they would be much less appropriate. Like an office or a wedding. They can also be too hot in the summer, like my hair.
Though hair and clothes are analogous, there are also many differences. A key difference is the ease of altering clothes. I have both suits and boots. I cannot have both shoulder length locks and a clean combover at the same time, or switch between them more than once in quick succession. Consequently, hair is a semi-permanent part of everyone’s persona in the way that clothes can’t be. Anyone can walk into a department store prior to a banquet dinner and come out put together, just like anyone can walk into a Hot Topic prior to a concert and come out looking like a fan. But hair is different, especially hair that is cut to look good styled, or requires a couple of years to reach a requisite length.
As such, hair legitimizes a person. A complex haircut lends to the belief that its wearer is a stronger adherent to whatever else they’re doing. A perfectly coiffed combover lends more to the frat boy than an oxford shirt, salmon shorts, and boat shoes. Shoulder-length hair contributes further to a counterculture persona more than a graphic t-shirt, faded jean shorts, and Birkenstocks. However, neither can be taken in a vacuum. A slick combover is equally favoured by young professionals as with hoodlums. Long hair is worn by both Jared Leto and Jason Momoa.
The complexity of either hairstyle also implies a certain degree of attention to outward appearances. Wearing them added a certain legitimacy to the clothes that I wore. Since clothes were easily acquired, modified, and imitated, they required context. A person with a unique and complex haircut will be perceived as reserved and unpretentious when they dress in simple cuts and muted colours whereas others might be perceived as boring or unfashionable. When they wear GAP or Old Navy, it’s because they chose to, not because their mothers did their shopping. In the same way that Jonah Hill, Adam Sandler, and Justin Bieber can dress like a Florida man who shops at Pac Sun and get accolades about being fashion icons, people with great hair can get away with certain things.
And so, after twenty months, I am once again looking for a fresh cut. I’m in no rush, as I’ve only been able to tie up my hair for around a year, and I’m still enjoying it, looking to get a few more good photos. I like how little maintenance it takes, just a bit of combing and vacuuming. However, I miss the cleanliness and versatility of my old haircut, like a little black dress. But importantly, it must have the same amount of clout as either of those haircuts. It must be unique and noticeable to the point where it can be an identifier. Until then, I’ll be the guy with the bun.
