Hair Growth Watch

While Queen Michelle was sitting in the stylist's chair in Scotland, getting a trim on Saturday, we were tweeting back and forth about haircuts, hair growth, and regret.

Queen Michelle's hair had been exceptionally for years, perhaps long enough to reach her jeans waistband. Maybe she'll confirm this. I'm not sure of her reasons, but sometime recently, she cut off two feet of hair. Two feet! It's now somewhere below her collarbones.

My hair was down to my lower back until late 2009. Then I decided it was too long for a woman my age (I was 43), and I got about a foot cut off. Yeah, that was a great idea. Who cares how long your hair is when you're 43?

The cut I got was decidedly lackluster and mumsy, but I lived with it. Soon after that, I went to New York, and as a result of serendipitous and benevolent arrangements made by WendyB, I had my hair cut in her hallway by the lovely and talented Julie Matos, who styles WendyB's hair for special events. I took a picture of my haircut that day, and I can't find it. It was the best haircut I've ever had—Julie took my hair from mumsy to yumsy.

Even as Julie was working her magic, I knew her housecall range wasn't likely to include California. Gulp.

With that grim realization, I returned home to my California stylist, and the cut's direction changed, as it was bound to do with someone else at the shears. I tried to accept the new direction. I kept the same basic style, a just-below-chin-length bob for a few months. But it just wasn't the same. The edge and uniqueness was lost, and with it my interest in the cut. I was ruined for anybody but Julie. Within months, I succumbed to frustration, and I told my stylist I wanted "big change." A bog-standard bob doesn't allow for much change, but he did what he could. He cropped me about as short as is tolerable. He did a great cut (photo, below left), but in retrospect, I realize we took it too far. I had made a mistake. That day I knew I wouldn't cut my hair again until further notice.

Circa March, 2010 (left); Mid 2011 (center); Februrary 2012 (right)

When she was in the chair getting a trim, Queen Michelle Tweeted that cutting her hair had been a mistake, and that she was growing her hair out. I understood that. I didn't think cutting my hair was a mistake when Julie cut it, but I was wishing for longer hair after just a months of not having access to her cutting skills. So after my wacky experiment with the Shortest.Bob.Ever, I am on a mission to grow my hair out. Same with Queen Michelle.

After some commiseration, Queen Michelle and I have agreed to a Hair Growth Watch, wherein we will be each others' support if we are ever tempted to chop our locks. We have chosen a goal of chest-length for our hair. Mine is past my collarbones, but it seems as if it has been the same length forever. I'm forcing myself to be patient, and it's not easy. I want it long now. Maybe I have a case of "grass is greener," and I assume I'll be happy with longer hair. But if I ever get to the point where I can't resist the temptation to get a serious haircut, I'll buy a ticket to New York, and book an appointment with Julie. Then I'll lose my return ticket.

Drita Hearts Me!

I love to throw "Drita is my idol" around on Twitter and Facebook.

I did it again this morning, after I saw a fresh tweet from her about last night's episode.

She saw it and tweeted me back!

(I realize it may be a staffer tweeting, but still.)

Senseless Fascination #1

It wasn't long before I was back to my old ways.

Immediately upon starting up my blog yesterday, I realized that some of the old post tags could be revived. Instead of "Preposterousness," I'm calling this a "Senseless Fascination."

I think readers will agree that since I have no job, I have no business even looking at this Hermès bag. I don't really have any business looking at an Hermès bag under any circumstances, employed or not. But I'm looking anyway, because who's going to stop me?

While I've admired Hermès bags from afar, I've never wanted to own one, not really. I love the Kelly, but it's got a flap on top, and I like an open-top bag. The Birkin would theoretically address the open-top issue, but who wants to pay that kind of money for a bag? I don't—I'm far too tough on bags, and anyway, my life is entirely unglamorous. Where am I going to carry the thing? To Albertson's?

Of course, this bag is overkill too, but it's as close as I've ever gotten to actually considering the possibility—however remote—of wanting/dreaming of an Hermès bag. It sure seems like my ideal. The size, the shape, the handles, the closure, the strap, the minimal look. I'm not sure I'd go for orange, but it's a pretty good neutral.

I figure if I sell all my good bags on consignment, I might come close to having enough to pay for this bag. I'm too embarrassed to call the 800 number to find out how much it is, because after all, "if you have to ask, you can't afford it." I could call and ask what the size is, and what colors it's available in, and what the available options for materials might be, and get an idea that way, but really, all I want to know is "how much?" and, "Who's going to buy it for me?"