esrosedotblog

Have I mentioned that I am growing my hair out long?

Again.

The goal is to resume the pony tail that I had for a long time, many years ago. And, of course, to avoid haircuts.

I do not like haircuts. I remember my first one. Really.

Mr. Keitzig, a two chair shop with one barber, the other chair was the waiting chair.

Then there was Edgar Trentesseau a closet queen with a fondness for dashing off mid hair cut for a quick gin pick me up. Vodka was not around much back then.

Then there were others. No one bad, particularly, but no one good either.

I remember my first visit to a stylist, the end of barbers.

That was the first guy who shampooed me. Nice. But I still am not sure it is necessary.

There were the razor cuts, the layered cuts, the buzz cuts. For awhile I had my own shaver/trimmer.

But the best cut of all has always been the no-cut. Long hair.

Mine is pretty good. For one thing it is wavy just like my Dad's. That is a plus right there. The Dad part. Then wavy. It curls in back. I love that.

If you detect more than an average amount of narcissism here you are correct. I plead guilty. My mirror and I are old friends. And my mirror does like long hair.

It is long enough now that some of it reaches my shoulder. There is very little grey in it. Amazing.

I am still balding on top but the bald long hair look is big on the west coast. Show business people, some business types who have that silver fox thing going.

I am near pony tail length. It will be another few weeks before I can really get it on and keep it on.

Hey. Old folks need projects. And the more they are harmless to others and irrelevant the better. It fits right into the "don't be seen" ethos for the senior set.

Incidentally, that is not me in the photo. That is someone else who I admire. For different reasons. And he has a pony tail too. At least there is something in common.

Labels: hair