Regular as clockwork. My last significant haircut was a year ago, and here we are. Again. Thankfully, I have stopped making impetuous vows about how I am never cutting my hair for the rest of my days. So there was nothing sheepish about this decision, for once. It was a bit overdue, to be honest. I have now made peace with the fact that my hair looks its best when it’s above the shoulders. Scratch that. My meager skills cannot do much with my hair at shoulder-length and beyond. Inevitably, I find myself with flat, limp, sad-looking hair and then, in short order, a pony-tail. Life’s too short to mourn the mermaid hair that never will be. So, chop chop.
This is the kind of bob I’ve been wanting for a few years; somehow, my intent got lost in translation with various previous hair stylists, who always seemed to want to sneak in layers I never really wanted. Convenience took me to a new salon (close to my new work), and the rest is history. It’s always a bit of a gamble to get a bunch of hair chopped off by someone you’ve never met before, but all’s well that ends well.
Do I love the result? Hell, yes. I’m not sure if it’s my most traditionally flattering haircut, but I think it complements my current style – that whole jolie laide thing. At this length, I may even experiment with the effortlessly “undone” style beloved of chic French girls – you know, just wash, air dry, and go.
Hah.
Hahahahahahaha!
Hey, I have to hold on to some unattainable hair goals, right?
In all seriousness, though, does anyone else get really excited about working with a new haircut when it comes to outfits? I feel like this bob is really leaning into the edgier side of my current style (architectural, minimalist) whilst still being classic enough to work with my more traditional silhouettes. So many possibilities!
They tell you to “never say never”, and that is solid advice because, inevitably, “never” proves far shorter in duration than one expects. For example, in my case, “never” lasted about 5 years.
It was sometime in 2012 that I decided I would NEVER EVER get a pixie cut again. And you know what is happening on top of my head as I write this? That’s right, a pixie cut. Granted, it’s not as drastic a pixie as my last one. It’s really more of a very, very short bob … except at the back, where it sure feels like a pixie. Did I mention there is a touch of undercutting going on at the sides as well? No? Well, that’s what one gets for saying “never”.
surprise!
As with all my hair decisions, this pixie cut was an entirely impulsive move. “Maybe I should get a pixie again,” I told myself one morning on the way to work, and by 10 AM that same day, I had a hair salon appointment booked. The appointment itself was not until the following morning, and I hate how life sometimes tries to make me reconsider my dubious decisions before it’s too late. Silly life! I always double down on dubious decisions. I did have a brief moment of serious doubt on the eve of my haircut (more on that in a moment), but I plunged on. As for the result … I’m pretty happy with it. A part of me wishes I had pushed myself a little further towards the “edgy” end of the spectrum; closer to, say, Michelle Williams’ do. I ended up compromising a bit, and sticking with slightly longer layers on the sides just so that, in the event of an immediate change of heart, the re-growing process could bypass the whole Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club-era Beatles phase. Depending on how I feel at my next appointment, I may ask my stylist to go a bit shorter on the (under)sides.
short hair don’t care
I love long hair. I really do. I just don’t love my hair long; it’s not the right texture to be long (fine and kinda lifeless) and my hairstyling skills aren’t good enough to completely overcome that. I think I look pretty good with long hair … but I also look OK with short hair. And here’s the thing: I love a big change. Every few years, I need a big change. I stopped colouring my hair almost a decade ago, so now the only real impact-making change left within my control is, what else, a big chop. For better or worse, I’ll probably be on the “pixie-bob-lob, repeat” cycle forever. Is there also a saying, “never say forever”? I guess I’ll find out …
As it happens, the one thing that did have me second-guessing myself was the question of how a new haircut would affect my style. Many of the women whose pixie cuts I’ve admired in recent years tend to have a more minimalist aesthetic than I do, often with gamine leanings. Like Michelle Williams. While I admire that sort of look (and will, on occasion, pick outfits with a similar vibe), I also know that it’s not my predominant preference. Would my favourite clothes look strange with a new haircut, I wondered. I ended up finding reassurance from an unlikely source; I adore Elisa Nalin’s sartorial exuberance, but have long come to terms with the fact that I’m nowhere near cool enough to pull off a similar aesthetic. However, looking at pictures of Elisa rocking a short pixie AND lots of colourful prints was all the proof I needed that getting a pixie would not require me to embrace black, grey and white as my everyday rainbow.
Ironically, the first outfit I wore after getting my hair cut? Black, white and grey. In my defence, I had a hearing that day. Also in my defence: I did wear a bold floral. And I loved rocking my pixie.
Right off the bat, let me break the bad news: I have no magical secrets for growing out a pixie cut in any shorter time-frame than that generally dictated by your hair. To grow out a pixie, you need two things: patience, and a sense of humour. OK, three things. You will also need a good hairstylist. I have no patience, my sense of humour is questionable, but I do have an awesome stylist. All in all, it could have been worse.
Let’s go back to the beginning: spring 2011. My hair was a little bit longer than it is now, a bit past my collarbone. I had just finished growing out pixie cut #1 (total time invested: almost 2 years). Naturally, my thoughts turned to cutting it, again. I’m gonna blame this one on pregnancy hormones, because get this – I became convinced that getting a bob would be the most practical thing to do in view of my son’s impending arrival. No time for long hair with a newborn, etc. Chop chop.
Except that I forgot to take into account the fact that, in order for a bob to look nice, my hair would still require straightening and whatnot. I was a perpetually panicked first-time mom, so the most basic of grooming tasks seemed overwhelming at the time. When my son reached the grabby, hair-is-a-fun-chew-toy phase of baby development, I used that as an excuse for pixie #2. So it began.
In the beginning … iffy style choices and all
I sported the prototypical first-time mom pixie cut for a good 6 months before the postpartum haze finally lifted, and I realized I’d made a terrible mistake. As I started to prepare to head back to work, I also started mentally preparing for the more tortuous task of growing out my pixie cut. Again.
Here is what it looked like, a couple of months in.
September 2012: the start of the long road
I can’t give you any technical details, but my stylist basically trimmed my hair every 8 weeks or so, making whatever slight adjustments she deemed necessary to allow growth to happen in a (mostly) becoming fashion.
I won’t lie. There were many, many terrible mornings. During the worst of it, I woke up every day looking like this:
I didn’t get to really celebrate growing out of that phase, because I moved right into this one. (I looked mostly like George, in case you were wondering. Sans ‘stache.)
Musically, at least, this was huge progress. But, basically, for what felt like the most eternal eternity (but was maybe something like 2-3 months), I did this every time I looked in the mirror.
Yes. Yes, indeed.
Fiiiiiiiinally, I inched back into bob territory. This took about 9 months or so, counting from the time I decided to start growing out my hair. On the left side, you can see the tail end of my Bieber phase. On the right, pregnancy bob #2, which looks very much like pregnancy bob #1. Circle of life, etc.
Growing out pains
During my second pregnancy, I made another big decision. Thankfully, this one turned out to be a smarter one. I got a perm.
That looks … painful. The perm wasn’t bad, tho
I wrote about my perm before, but it was basically my attempt to make myself stick with the whole growing-out process. The perm adds texture and volume to my hair, and removes the need for styling on my part.
Strangely, there wasn’t much noticeable growth in the first 6 months or so after I got the perm. Still, my follicular situation was looking ok. (I got a re-perm in December 2013, but nothing drastic changed.)
Not much happening …
I feel like I “turned the corner” on the growing-out process sometime around March, when my hair started grazing my shoulders. After that, things started to pick up. This was the summer when I completely overdosed on beach spray, which gave me awesome Medusa hair, and also completely dried it out.
Getting there …
I finally got a re-perm in August, and was surprised when my stylist told me that my ends looked fine and didn’t need a trim. I guess I have indestructible hair, or something. (Not really. I’m assuming the “secret” is the fact that I’m too lazy to blow-dry my hair, and I rarely straighten it.)
Perm #3
And here we are. Just about 2 years in, my journey is complete. I’ve grown out my pixie. You know what this means, right?
Psych.
I’m growing it some more. Maybe another 4-5 inches. Then I’ll cut it.
