the haircut

Something miraculous happened this week - I managed to get my haircut and emerge from the salon without looking like Jim Carey from Dumb & Dumber. That fringe fact alone should have been cause to celebrate but it seems nothing can truly go to plan when it involves me and a haircut. I went in for a 'trim' but somewhere between sipping a glass of champagne (I'm so fancy!) and reading trashy mags my vision of a stellar cut quickly vanished. As scissors flew around my head I admit I was a tad bit excited for a new 'do and although shorter than I planned, I was still happy with the direction we were headed.  I was picturing a cross between Amelie and 1920's film star Louise Brooks - you know, something out of the TV series, Boardwalk Empire that was easy to maintain yet effortlessly stylish - prohibition chic I'd call it, perhaps I'd buy a flapper dress?

In the end, the reality of the cut was more helmet head/soccer mom than sexy silent film star but as long as my fringe remained below my eyebrows I'm going consider it a mild success - although I will admit day dreaming of pulling off the french bob, even if only for a few brief minutes, was completely worth it.