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Question of the Week: Hair

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How has your hair changed throughout your career?


Wednesday, Neil Gaiman will be here, and we’re going through his old photo albums together, so don’t miss it or you’ll miss photos like this one!

Here’s just a partial list of Neil’s books and films:

Beowulf * Stardust * Coraline * MirrorMask * Neverwhere


P.S. Thank you to Edward J. Renehan for the link!

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  • Simon Haynes
    February 5, 2007

    Neil, thy name is Bill Oddie.

  • josh kilmer-purcell
    February 5, 2007

    how has my hair changed during my career?

    well for a few years in there, the answer would have been: “nightly.”

  • Sarah R. Roundell
    February 5, 2007

    My hair has seen every part of the spectrum through the writing years. Literally. From long and permed with blonde streaks in the early years of chick lit to a slick bob of orange then red then blue then green in the experimental days, shoulder length and jet black in the darker days to my natural colour in the present when my writing has taken on a more personal tone. Haven’t been frustrated enough to shave it all off – yet.
    Can’t wait for Wednesday!

  • Ric Marion
    February 5, 2007

    What an interesting question! Jr High was Elvis, made possible by VO-5. Then, due to an hereditary cowlick, months of going to bed with Dippity Do and scotch tape trying to train my hair into bangs like the Beatles. Was sent from high school to the barber more than once for hair on my collar.

    Protesting the war, hair was longest ever. Somewhere in disco, got a tightly curled perm – think the Dad on Brady Bunch.
    Ten years ago, a business mentor mentioned my hair was getting long – said I was growing it out to get a perm – she said, “Half the guys in Rotary do that – looks so stupid.” Went straight to barber and haven’t looked back. Now, I proudly wear my gray – I’ve earned it.


  • mikel k poet
    February 5, 2007

    Hmmmmmmmm and ha ha; WHAT A QUESTION.

    I’ve had no hair and I’ve had long hair. I go with the long hair until it’s just such a pain in the ars that I don’t want to deal with it anymore and then I cut it all off. I go from hippy style to skinhead or Kojak style.

    When I was a kid, I desperately wanted long hair like John Lennon and Jim Morrison had, but my dad wouldn t have it. About ten years ago, I got my hair nearly half way down my back and then looked in the mirror one morning and realized that I looked like a bad Greg Allman. I also realized that I was growing hair to rebel against my dad and that he had been dead for over a decade, so it was stupid to rebel against him at that point.

    Right now, I am trying to get my hair as long as Willie Nelson’s. I want it down to my buttocks, just for once in my life. I don’t know why and I don t know if I will make it, because it is just so darn hard to keep up,the longer it gets. I have a hairbrush in every room of the abode and one in the car, but my locks still get messy. My hair is real thin and perhaps not conducive to letting my freak flag fly.

    Really, it is irrelevent what kind of hair you have, but it is funny how different people react to different hairstyles on your head. Some girls will smile at you if you have long hair. Some girls will smile at you if you have no hair; and they are not the same girls.

    Anyway, I really wouldn t want to attract a girl because of the length or style of my hair, anymore than I would want to attract a girl because of my car. Plus I already have a girl, who mostly digs my hair.(She hates it when it gets sloppy and would prefer that I pigtail it, which I’m not much about.)

    Do you understand?
    Can you dig it?

    “Almost cut my hair. Happened just the other day, but I didn’t and I wonder why I feel like letting my freak flag fly…”–CSNY

  • Tish Cohen
    February 5, 2007

    You could always gauge my career satisfaction by the state of my hair. The more I hated my job, the better my hair looked. These days, you can usually find me with such a big nest of snarls and curls you might find yourself glancing around to see if asylum security has noticed I’ve escaped.

  • Robin Slick
    February 5, 2007

    Ooh, you should open your comment section up so we can post photos, Susan.

    I dyed my hair burgundy/purple in the late seventies; for a while I ironed it straight…yeah…I put my hair on an ironing board and fried it with a real iron until I looked like far-out hippie chick even though by that time Reagan was President and all of my friends with the coveted straight hair went out and got perms so that could have a wild curly mess like the one I was born with and hated my whole life. I was completely stymied over that…well, I was stymied over eighties’ fashions altogther as you already know…it’s when I made my first conscious decision to always dress in black.

    And then I made a fatal mistake and got a mullet…never a good idea when you don’t have a little pug nose…if I hadn’t dyed my blonde hair purple back then I’d have been a ringer for George Washington.

    Now I just let it go wild and right now it’s probably longer than it’s been in years…I’m going for the Mother Earth look.

    Can you guess I’ve had a life long obsession with my hair?

  • Betsy
    February 5, 2007

    Wow, I would have had a major crush on Neil Gaiman if I’d known him in the beard era. Dig. Reminds me of my first… anyway, hair, for the love of god. This is all documented in GLORY but in much more literate fashion, but since I’m always up for discussing my hair, here goes: after a bad, traumatizing short “pixie” haircut according to my mother (who cut it short because it was growning out from when she’d BLEACHED IT BLONDE), just before entering first grade in NYC, just after having moved from Baton Rouge (can you tell I had to work a few things out?), I spent the ensuing years growing my hair out, finally achieving the “base” hairstyle I refer to as twenty years of long hair and bangs (bangs and layers modified slightly with changes in fashion, but almost imperceptible to the less observant). When I moved to Chicago, I decided it was finally time to try cutting my hair again (cute, but way higher maintenance than long for a thick-haired gal like me) and although I grew it out, I remained bang-free for a good six or seven years. Fast forward – and here I am with a variation of my trademark. Albeit miraculously blonder…
    PS I was the girl at The Pier – can’t remember if I was ever at Tracks or not…
    Is anyone still reading this comment?

  • *Joe*
    February 5, 2007

    Looking forward to the Neil Gaiman interview. I’ve been a fan ever since reading Good Omens (with Terry Pratchett). He is the only author that has ever gotten me to read a graphic novel. I know, you think it would be a natural fit for me.

    My hair? Never Gaiman-esque that’s for sure. More go yonder than come hither. I skipped a few steps and started graying at age fourteen and I’ve spent the last few decades waiting for my wrinkles to catch up.

  • Aimee
    February 5, 2007

    My hair has always been long and straight with slight differences depending on the era. I chopped it off once after having my oldest son because I was very depressed. But that made me more depressed. I vary on colors of blonde, but typically stick with a toasted color.
    My hair is my security blanket. It is very upsetting to me to change it drastically. I don’t know what this says about my mental state…

  • Lance Reynald
    February 5, 2007

    ok, this thread is funny.

    early days you can just go ahead and picture some Duran Duran styles being rocked…I tried all of those. even managed that ridiculous burgundy colour that I now consider the kiss of death on guys… during a bit of an existential crisis in the late 80’s I managed to rock some jet black extensions, it was a bad move, a mix of goth and LA Guns…every now and then I have that good ole emotional breakdown and buzz it all of, the responses to doing so usually run from being thought a skinhead or terminally ill…but throughout I’ve always had a bit of a predisposition to the bleach, from rockstar blond to platnium to totally silver, just seems to be where it always ends back at…so much so that most of my friends get irritated when I do anything else, they say it doesn’t look like “me” any other way…So I guess that’s evolved into a trademark or getting close to iconic in Lanceland.

  • Richard
    February 5, 2007

    In 1979, when my first book appeared, my hair looked like this.

    By 2000, when another book appeared, it looked like this.

  • Kaytie
    February 5, 2007

    After a particularly bad haircut in gradeschool that required, oh, seven years of growing out (complicated by the era of mall rat coil perms) I got my hair long and plain again. Wore it that way until I moved to Southern California and spent the next five years with the typical blonde highlights everyone with dishwater blonde hair has down here. In the last five years, leaving my corporate job and eschewing any job that required a conservative look, I’ve gone short and red to my current look, long and dark, but it’s time for something new…

  • Aurelio
    February 5, 2007

    I bleached my hair blonde once, as a joke, but… I actually liked it, A LOT! Seriously, I looked much better as a blonde! It was a horrible process though and far too much work (and my hair grows reeeeeally fast, so I got roots.)

    Josh will argue this, but guys and hair dye are a bad combination.

  • Carolyn Burns Bass
    February 5, 2007

    I have virgin hair. I’ve never colored it.

    I was always known as the short girl with the hair. After having pixie cuts in my girlhood, I grew it out in my teen surf-chick days, eschewing the Farrah Fawcett big hair styles that raged through the late-’70s and ’80s.

    I cut it short and kept it short during the ’90s. Then I read about Locks of Love accepting hair donations to make wigs for kids who can’t grow hair. My hair grows really fast and is really thick. So I grew my hair out again and last April I cut it and donated it to Locks of Love. You can read about it and see my new look here.

  • n.l. belardes
    February 5, 2007

    I’m pleading the 5th.

  • Terry
    February 5, 2007

    If I get to count high school and college, I’ve been through the perm, the bleachy wavish thing, the long and greasy with a ponytail, the severely short (ceasar), and the thing right now which is something like “get it cut when your wife tells you to, but otherwise ignore it because, well, it’s just hair for God’s sake.”

    Also, I’ve had a beard for something like ten years. It operates under the same school of design.


  • Juliet
    February 5, 2007

    My name’s Juliet, and I am an addict.
    I’ve spent thousands of dollars on hair styles, products and foolery.

    It’s been ten years since I’ve touched a curling iron, seven since I’ve touched a crimper.

    My hair and I have always been the best of friends. You name it, we’ve been through it: blonde, black, red, eggplant, blue, purple, green… Chelsea-girl cut (in the days in Toronto when my pen was my only “actual” property); the copy-cat Madonna years, the to-my-waist freedom years and then the boy-cuts, pixie-cuts, the one-size-fits-all bob, the business look, the wedge…

    I think I’ve had a hairstyle for every word I’ve put on page.
    My hair is back to its virginal colour, a great cut, and a style that easily goes from mischief to role-model.

    I still spend too much on product (cleaning and conditioning only) (hairspray and I broke up in 1999, gel and mousse left shortly after).

    It’s one day at a time, sometimes, but I’m stronger.

    (There should be some hairdo serenity prayer.

    God, grant me the serenity to accept the cowlicks I cannot change;
    courage to change the styles I can;
    and wisdom to know the difference.

  • Jason Boog
    February 5, 2007

    My mother cut my hair until I was 23-years-old.

    In high school, when I fancied myself a beat poet, I wore my hair way too long.

    In college, while writing an epic private detective poem, I let my overgrown bangs hang in my eyes.

    By graduation, I was writing mostly non-fiction, and I scrapped the whole long-haired look.

    While living in Guatemala, I paid peanuts for my short haircuts but I usually had a cowlick.

    Now, in New York, I pay for a cheap trim once a month and I miss my mom. Oddly enough, I don’t comb my hair anymore. I let my hair do what it wants…

  • Lance Reynald
    February 5, 2007

    (it is becoming alarmingly more evident that Juliet and I may be the same person separated by the US-Canadian border and a few extra pieces here and there)

  • Juliet
    February 5, 2007

    Exactly as God intended.

  • LaurenBaratz-Logsted
    February 5, 2007

    If you reckon the start of my career from when I quit my day job in 1994 and started writing seriously, the list is longer. If we confine it to just from when my first book came out in 2003, we can shorten it to: long straight black hair the first year, short spiky black hair ever since. This manages to eliminate The Red Years.

  • Megan
    February 5, 2007

    I’m always at odds with my hair so I just ignore it. I don’t own a hairbrush and I leave it all to my genius stylist who knows how to make me fabulous. Before I met him I cut my own hair.

    Granted I was a hair stylist in a past lifetime, a few years ago. And sometimes I still am for people I like.

  • Mark Bastable
    February 5, 2007

    Being the same age and nationality as Neil, I suspect I’ve been through much the same hair. If you were in your teens in England in 1977, you were faced with a terrible dichotomy of personal identification. You’d spent years defying your dad and your headmaster by growing your hair to your shoulders – and suddenly short and spiky was hip.

    To get it cut would be to lose not only locks but face. But to keep it long would mean that Stuart MacDonald – the American ex-pat who was selling off Pink Floyd albums before they became a drug on the mart – would appear infinitely hipper than you despite being really crap at essays.

    I took the grammar-school geek’s way out. I decided to like The Only Ones. They were a happening band but they had long hair and wore eyeliner. I looked very hot in eyeliner and I have the perfumed letters in pink ribbon to prove it.

    At this point in the story I’m sixteen. Do you really want me to detail the subsequent thirty years? I could. It’s fascinating. The jet black with the dark blue streaks which, combined with round reflector shades and a tailcoat, never failed to get me a seat on the Tube; the ill-advised spiky blond period; the radical short-back-and-sides debacle; the how-long-can-get-I-grow-it-before-I-hit-45 rebellion. All of which has finally resolved tp a sort of mussy, recently-laid, a-bit-too-long-so-sue-me compromise.

    These days I tend not to look at any photographs taken from behind. (“…it’s harsh, that lighting; and the wind was fierce – it kinda gives the impression that I’m a bit thin at the crown, which I’m not. Weird how the camera does that.”) And I’m aware that my roots need constant attention. I’ve been greying since I was a teenager. With the kind of neat irony you wouldn’t allow in a novel, I noticed my first white hair on my eighteenth birthday.

    Recemtly I was asked by an official filling in a form what colour I would say my hair was.

    “That’s – what?” – medium brown – yeah?”

    “Actually,” I said, “it’s Clairol Nice’n’Easy Natural Dark Brown.”

    “I don’t have room for that in the box here.”

    “Just put, Cause he’s worth it.”

  • Mark Bastable
    February 5, 2007

    Is there any way I do that again without the screw-ups?

    ….which, oddly, is exactly what the colourist said when she took the foil off to reveal the purple and green highlights.

  • Claire Cameron
    February 6, 2007

    I started out looking a bit too much like David Lee Roth (in the Jump years), by which I mean overly blonde and fluffy. I’m working my way to a more dignified golden solution. Wish me luck.

  • Alexander Chee
    February 6, 2007

    I still mostly go to a Tajik barber in the East Village of NY. His name is ‘Jeff’ (so totally not his birth name). He’s on East 6th, East of the Bowery, south side of the street. I go even now, living in Massachusetts. I go once a month.

    He’s cut my hair since the first book came out and before.

    Sometimes he uses a 2 on the clipper. Sometimes, a 1.

  • patry
    February 6, 2007

    Oh, I wish my hair would change. But no matter which way the political climate slants, how my characters behave, or my career goes, my hair remains the same intractible mess year after year…

    My only revenge? All my protagonists have luxurious bales of shining hair…

  • Susan Henderson
    February 6, 2007

    I need to catch up in here, apparently. We did a quickie trip up to Vermont to go skiing in minus-4 weather. It’s gorgeous up there, wow. I’m still on standby for jury duty and it’s looking like it’ll be tomorrow. I’ll try to be very opinionated in my interview and see if they still want me. Some other things – Green Hand starts rehearsal for Brecht’s Good Person of Szechwan tonight. Bach-Boy is busy in Music Man rehearsals (he’s Harold Hill), so lots of driving from one place to the other. Last thing, and exciting,I got notes from two anthologies yesterday (more on that soon, one’s a nice big one), and I spent a long long time talking to a very cool and enthusiastic publisher last night. This was about the memoir, and I’m pretty much persuaded. Novel is still out there, and all is looking up. Okay, to your comments – I may only get partway before I have to run errands. Thanks for the link this morning, Neil. xx

    Simon – I had to ask Mr. Henderson (who grew up in England)about that Bill Oddie reference. That photo pretty much makes me faint.

    Josh – If you (or anyone) want to come back and link to photos of hairdos, help yourself.

    Sarah – I’m wanting to see “slick bob of orange.”

    Ric – I’ve always loved gray and peppery hair. I fixed your link, by the way.

  • kim teeple
    February 6, 2007

    I have perfect hair– wonderful, wonderful hair. Straight hair. Great hair! I’m lucky. I was born with it. Also, timely hair. When the Dorothy Hamill was all the rage, my hair twirled like Dorothy’s falling back into place. I could feather my hair in the seventies, cut it short and spiky in the eighties, and now, a messy bob, I can finger-scrunch, or curl, or slick back, tuck behind my ear(a very small pretty delicate ear)and tousle…

    Don’t hate me because my hair(and ears)are beautiful.


    My parents made me get a pixie, not a Twiggy pixie a barber shop pixie complete with cowlicks–but I WANTED, oh how I wanted Dorothy Hamill’s haircut.

    In the seventies, it’s true, I could feather my hair–but it never stayed feathered. It fell and fell and fell–all the Breck in the world couldn’t keep my hair from falling.

    In the eighties I volunteered for one of those hair shows (do I detect a collective shudder) Then, I went to the recruiters/Army enlistment office on Lake Street–what did I have to lose, I already had the haircut.

    I’m older now. I know I have to appreciate what I have–learn to love my hair, and for the most part I do(patting my hair reassuringly) I DO like my hair. I also like my double chin, my long nose, my squinty eyes and my puffy waist…

  • n.l. belardes
    February 6, 2007

    People used to mistake me for being Greek or Italian. And it’s all because I had this thick curly hair dark hair. I used to have one of those mullet bi-level looks in the 80s. Then in college I wore it like Michael Hutchence of INXS: long and curly… maybe I looked more like Kenny G… who knows…. I’d like to think angry rock star… sure. Now my hair is very grey on the sides. And I keep it sort of shortish… Oh, once I had it in braids that stuck up in every direction…

    I think hair is an expression of self, like writing. We change, progress, and if we’re creative, sometimes our hair does too…

    Sorry I pleaded the fifth earlier.

  • n.l. belardes
    February 6, 2007

    This is official spam from your friendly Indie book company, Noveltown. We’re coming out in February with our first publication of The Noveltown Review.

    The Noveltown Review is a Literary Magazine out of Bakersfield, CA which will feature short stories, book reviews, blog lit news, and more… it will capture the bravado of the Indie spirit and toss in some conservative publishing sensibility as well.

    The inaugural edition includes writers outside of Bakersfield, including New York Times bestselling author Brad Listi who runs, Susan Henderson who runs New York’s growing, and Cindy Wathen, who helps run the Yosemite Writers Conference.

    Susan’s piece is absolutely wonderful. So you will want a copy.

    But we need your help.

    1) If you would like to distribute in your area: coffeehouses, book stores, etc., then email me at [email protected]

    2)The Noveltown Review is a FREE publication. That means we have to sell ads to cover costs.

    If you’d like to have your book, company, Uncle Joe’s Pancake House promoted in an ad, then please download our ad sheet.

    3)Submit for the next edition… We want only the most professional writers… does this mean you?

    Thanks everybody for the support. Noveltown is all about helping grow a literary community…

  • Susan Henderson
    February 6, 2007

    mikel k – I used to have my hair past my butt. I’ll put a picture up on Friday. And I’ll tell a story about why hair past your butt can be a problem.

    Tish – That’s fascinating to know the better you looked the more unhappy you were. I like that.

    Robin – Terry thinks it will be disastrous (bandwidth and viagra spam wise) to open up to photos in the comments section, but if you post it on your blog, you can link here and I’ll re-link on Friday. I want to see those pictures!

    Betsy – I am loving All This Heavenly Glory. I’m trying so hard to read it slowly so I don’t gulp it down and do that weird thing I do with books where I feel like the book dumped me before I was ready. Does anyone else date their books? When Dylan Thomas broke up with me, I thought I’d never recover. Same with Virgil.

    *Joe* – Good Omens is Mr. Henderson’s favorite book. That and Magnus Mills’ The Restraint of Beasts. My kids are huge huge huge Terry Pratchett fans.

    Aimee – I don’t change my hair much either. I’ll probably talk about this on Friday for the Weekly Wrap.

    Lance – Can you link to photos? Please? My kids got into the pinata with knives, by the way. They get their patience from their mother. Lots of gross things inside – they were very impressed.

    I need to break here and come back later. But real quick….

    n.l. – When you come back to link the photo of you as Kenny G, can you also leave a link to your interview in today’s Wall Street Journal?

  • Jon Armstrong
    February 6, 2007

    Well, this is not easy. I had a few bad years there with a certain hair gel. But wait, let me begin at the beginning. I used to have a full beard and moustache. When I began working in New York, I kept the beard trimmed, but it had its bad days. Then I shaved and had a moustache for a while. Pictures from that short era are truly bad. Then it fell victim to the razor. Meanwhile, my hair was over the ears and straight. I got it cut shorter as the 80s came on and then there was that hair gel. I blame Michael Douglas and Wall Street. So for a while, I actually bragged that I could comb my hair one morning, go about my day, sleep, and wake up with exactly the same do. It was really only useful while riding a motorcycle.
    My present hair incarnation began in the mid 90s (Does that mean it’s time for an update again?). It’s short with longer and now graying sideburns.

  • Susan Henderson
    February 6, 2007

    n.l. – Ha! Well, if you’re going to spam LitPark, you might as well be bold about it. 10 points for ballsiness! 10 for quality lit!

    Richard – That was some fun clicking! Thanks for the links!

    Kaytie – I’m so jealous of people who aren’t afraid to change their hair.

    Aurelio – Yeah, but now roots are cool!

    Carolyn – I’ve done Locks of Love twice, but I only get trims now. It’s a great organization. Your link was broken, and everyone, it’s well worth the click. Here:

    t – Hee. Cute. That Caesar is a bad cut on everybody.

    Juliet – You have to have an awfully pretty face to pull off that many hairdos and colors. When I go short, I look like my brother.

    Jason – That’s sweet about your mom cutting your hair for so many years.

    Lauren – It’s pretty both ways.

    Megan – Everytime I’ve cut someone’s hair, they assume I hate them and then have to go get an emergency professional cut.

    Mark – Great stories – but I’m still thinking about that polka-dotted shirt from last week!

    Claire – Adorable. Whenever I sleep on my hair wet, I get that Eddie Van Halen look. We could go on tour!

    Alex – Why was I thinking you were still in NY? Bummer.

    patry – Patry’s book is out now, everybody:

    kim – HA! Great!

    Jon – Very funny about the motorcycle, but I hope you’re kidding!

  • n.l. belardes
    February 6, 2007

    Correction to myself: Brad Listi is an L.A. Times-Bestselling author…

  • n.l. belardes
    February 6, 2007

    Oh yeah, here’s a link to the article, “N.L. Belardes interviewed by the Wall Street Journal on corporate blogging.” Feel free to leave a comment…

    I’ll have to get a photo tonight to scan for the hairdo thingy…

  • Betsy
    February 6, 2007

    Thanks so much Susan! I do know that feeling of dating a book quite well, actually, I have read several books slowly on purpose. It took me years to read Nine Stories because I knew there wasn’t any more coming. But I never heard anyone say it about mine so I’m honored!

  • Julie Ann Shapiro
    February 6, 2007

    Now that I’m having a bad hair day and a moment to catch up. In the eighties I had a rash of bad hair cuts and perms. I went from the woman of bob with all these lame versions of that hair cut. I had spikey banges, feathered out banges and when all else failed the massive perm and a can of hair spray for that big hair look. it was awful.

    In the nighties I let it grow out back to it’s normal longish and flat somewhat stringy look with a small amount of banges. It’s sort of where it’s now excerpt for the tale end of a perm on the ends. The 2006 perm was nothing like those bad ass big hair things of the eighties. This was a mild perm, just to give it body and all. Now I’m growing it out and will probably keep the straight look.

  • Susan Henderson
    February 6, 2007

    Betsy – I had a feeling you might understand the whole book dating thing.

    There might not be a better short story than “For Esme – with Love and Squalor.” I think I’ve had to re-buy Nine Stories more than any other book because people borrow it and can’t give it back.

    Julie – The picture on your website is cute. That’s a good haircut for you.

  • Julie Ann Shapiro
    February 6, 2007

    Thank you. It’s about the same now, just with half a perm. I like the way it is on the ends but not the curly part by my face. Now it’s so dry out and I have fly away, static cling hair. Who would have thought this topic would be so fun?


  • n.l. belardes
    February 7, 2007

    What’s a banges? Is that like a hair banjo? Just joking. Oh you meant bangs. I’m with you now. Kinda slow in these parts…

  • Robin Slick
    February 7, 2007

    Nick? I seriously need to know what a hair banjo is.

    The mind boggles…

  • Julie Ann Shapiro
    February 7, 2007

    I need a typing editor. Hair bangos…that’s a good one. Just got back from a coatal walk and have the ski hat on or why friends call as my beenie. It’s cold out here by the coast when the wind blows but not anyone else’s cold, just a So-Cal kind of cold. Sure, makes the hair sound like socks coming out of the dryer.

  • Julie Ann Shapiro
    February 7, 2007

    Man, I really need the editing feature on this blog. I meant the hair beenie. and forgive my other typos – yikes.

  • Julie Ann Shapiro
    February 7, 2007

    Ok and I meant coastal not coatal.

  • Jordan
    February 7, 2007

    There are only two significant hair moments in my life. One, in college, when intending to go from dishwater to auburn, I went fuchsia (totally misleading package). It made me quite popular, though, for a week.

    The other: the bad perm. This is much like the bad bridesmaid dress or bad first hangover. Everyone’s had one.

    Neither had any impact on or relationship to my career.

  • viciousrumours
    February 7, 2007

    When I was young I had the infamous “garden weasel” hair. You remember that look, right? The tuft of hair on the front of your head that was stuck up there with so much hairspray you could have used it to rake a garden?

    Then I had my daughter. Now I have mommy hair. Whatever is easy, out of my face and won’t take twenty minutes to do. Ponytails and hair clips are a staple.

  • Lance Reynald
    February 7, 2007

    knifed a pinata…..LOVE IT!!!
    I especially liked the gooey skulls with the face parts inside…glad the boys approved!! and one can never have enough pirate tokens, no telling when that will come in handy.
    But, I am more concerned about you putting your goods to use; ticker tape and all.
    I think the photo I sent you last week is smack in the middle of the 80’s and recent is all over at myspace…I’ll see if I can dig some more up.

    xo- L

  • Juliet
    February 7, 2007

    Susan, perhaps your brother had the face of a pretty girl?

    Anyone ever use the flowbee?
    It sucks while it cuts….

  • J.D. Smith
    February 7, 2007

    The amount of hair I have is inversely proportional to the amount of work I have been able to publish.

    At the age of 43 I now have some hair and some publications.

    Shaving my head, however, would probably not accelerate my success.

    This saddens me if I think about it for too long.

  • Susan Henderson
    February 8, 2007

    Don’t worry, guys, it’s a park, not a spelling bee. I think my favorite thing around here just might be the no-edit button.

    Okay, everyone here will be on Friday’s Weekly Wrap. See you then, and I’ll be sharing a couple of hair pictures of my own.

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Susan Henderson