Thanksgiving has to be one of our most nostalgic holidays. Every year we make the same trip back to our spawning grounds, see the same cousins, eat the same turkey, watch the same football game, listen to Uncle Ed's one joke, and start eyeing the exit before the pie is served.
At some point between our second dessert and our third cocktal, Aunt Millie brings out the photo album and we all make fun of each other's hair. Oh god, the eighties weren't kind. Neither were the seventies. And what were they thinking in the sixties??? What twisted mind ever first conceived of mall bangs? You could go parasailing with some of those. Remember the mushroom cut that every little boy had? It was like some madness that overtook soccer moms everywhere. What about all those guys in the eighties who thought they looked ever so studdly with their hair parted right down the middle? It was always set off by a pair of wire- rimmed, tinted aviators and a tie wider than their head.
Oh, the shame. How delusional were we that we thought we looked absolutely hot with these crimes against nature on our heads? The endless perms, the mountains of tease, the tanker cars of hairspray, and those unholy cuts. Business in front, party in the back? Rattails? We want to bury these deep. What if these photos landed in the hands of our enemies? What if they posted them on Facebook??? We would have to uproot and start over again in Sweden. How can we distract Aunt Millie long enough to grab that album and dart out the door? We could be home ripping out pages and gleefully throwing them into the fireplace before they finished the pie round.
Nothing expires faster than a hair trend. What we think looks like the bees knees today will look like we lost a bet in ten years. Our children will point and laugh. And there's no escaping it. It happens to us all. However good our intentions, however stunning we think we look at the moment, time will not be kind. Fashion is fickle, with a wicked sense of humor. Sure, you look great in that Dorothy Hamill wedge, it tells you with a twinkle in it's eye, knowing full well that it's going to completely change the game next week and you'll look be left looking like your head is a doorstop. Why do we listen? Why are we always Charlie Brown, believing that this season Lucy won't pull the football away? But we do. We shave our heads, bleach, perm, tease, and straighten our hair, beleiving that this time, we truly look fantastic. And we do. For a minute. Then Fashion does a 180 and we're left trying to snatch damning photos from the hands of little old ladies before anyone else can witness our shame.
I guess the best we can do is be in on the joke. We can know that we're always going to end up stepping on the banana peel of fashion and taking the pratfall. Whatever we choose now will look deranged in ten years. So have fun with it now - it's just hair. Do it up - a beehive? Absolutely. A mullet? You look fabulous. A spiral perm? Gorgeous! Somebody, quick, take a picture!
At some point between our second dessert and our third cocktal, Aunt Millie brings out the photo album and we all make fun of each other's hair. Oh god, the eighties weren't kind. Neither were the seventies. And what were they thinking in the sixties??? What twisted mind ever first conceived of mall bangs? You could go parasailing with some of those. Remember the mushroom cut that every little boy had? It was like some madness that overtook soccer moms everywhere. What about all those guys in the eighties who thought they looked ever so studdly with their hair parted right down the middle? It was always set off by a pair of wire- rimmed, tinted aviators and a tie wider than their head.
Oh, the shame. How delusional were we that we thought we looked absolutely hot with these crimes against nature on our heads? The endless perms, the mountains of tease, the tanker cars of hairspray, and those unholy cuts. Business in front, party in the back? Rattails? We want to bury these deep. What if these photos landed in the hands of our enemies? What if they posted them on Facebook??? We would have to uproot and start over again in Sweden. How can we distract Aunt Millie long enough to grab that album and dart out the door? We could be home ripping out pages and gleefully throwing them into the fireplace before they finished the pie round.
Nothing expires faster than a hair trend. What we think looks like the bees knees today will look like we lost a bet in ten years. Our children will point and laugh. And there's no escaping it. It happens to us all. However good our intentions, however stunning we think we look at the moment, time will not be kind. Fashion is fickle, with a wicked sense of humor. Sure, you look great in that Dorothy Hamill wedge, it tells you with a twinkle in it's eye, knowing full well that it's going to completely change the game next week and you'll look be left looking like your head is a doorstop. Why do we listen? Why are we always Charlie Brown, believing that this season Lucy won't pull the football away? But we do. We shave our heads, bleach, perm, tease, and straighten our hair, beleiving that this time, we truly look fantastic. And we do. For a minute. Then Fashion does a 180 and we're left trying to snatch damning photos from the hands of little old ladies before anyone else can witness our shame.
I guess the best we can do is be in on the joke. We can know that we're always going to end up stepping on the banana peel of fashion and taking the pratfall. Whatever we choose now will look deranged in ten years. So have fun with it now - it's just hair. Do it up - a beehive? Absolutely. A mullet? You look fabulous. A spiral perm? Gorgeous! Somebody, quick, take a picture!