hair-raising change

News of the week is that I cut a fringe. Despite positive response from friends and colleagues, I’m still convinced that I look like a member of The Beatles. The problem with a personality that craves excitement and change all too regularly is that you end up making spontaneous decisions that, in hindsight, aren’t altogether rational. A typical haircut, with my regular stylist, involves me suggesting what look I fancy and her looking back at me doubtfully and suggesting something better. This time our compromise fell on a fringe and I walked out with my curls protruding out of my head at their most extreme and my fringe as straight as straw; an interesting twist on the Cleopatra look resembling that of the girl in the poster in the window of Toni and Guy. The obvious difference is that I am no model. At 6ft+ there are many styles you can pull of that someone at 5ft3 just can’t. I’m 5ft3.
But no remorse, I must admit the hair is growing on me (pun intended). Half of my face is hidden by a curtain of hair and I arrive at my desk looking frighteningly Medusa-like thanks to the blistering temperatures London is currently experiencing (52°C on buses yesterday – can people actually survive that heat?) but I like the change. Roberta, a work colleague suggested I look like Candy Candy, a cartoon character who was apparently popular in Europe during the 70’s and 80’s. I can tell this will be one of those styles that my kids will look at one day and ask, horrified, ‘What were you thinking Mom?’ To which I will respond, ‘It was London in the 2000’s. Anything went. No one looked twice no matter how odd you looked.’ Love this city.