Tuesday, March 20, 2018

These Young People and Their Hair


Two more fashion statements in hair.  I remember how much my father loathed my long curly hair when I was a teenager.  I refuse to be like that.  Hair is an expression of individuality or identity.  Most young people wear their hair like others to fit in, to be identified as part of their group.  Wearing hair that is totally different, is a statement.  I did it, they do it today, and that is fun. 

I do have fun collecting pictures of the top-knots, or man-buns.  

Did you hair frustrate your parents when you were a teenager? 

5 comments:

  1. No age limits on that look around here. And, if I had hair, there's no telling what I'd do. I had hair below my shoulders in the early '70s. My mother hated it and always commented on it. When I finally did cut it, she grabbed my face and kissed me when she saw. About 10 years ago, when commenting on my balding head, she told a friend of mine, "Oh, he used to have the most beautiful, glorious long hair. It broke my heart when he cut it all off."

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    1. "Down to where it stopped by itself" , Mitchell?

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    2. Deedles: I wish I had let it grow down to where it stopped by itself. I had a girlfriend with hair like that. Straight, thick, auburn hair that she could sit on. It was beautiful... but boring after a while. And she was known as the girl with the hair, which got really tiresome for her. "Never cut it," everyone would tell her. My mother didn't approve of men with pony tails. So I could never tie back my hair in front of her. She would then complain that my hair was always going in my face or blowing everywhere. Oh Dear God. I always loved "the onion," by the way -- although I called it the puff ball or the donut depending on how it was done.

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  2. My parents had six girls. Hair didn't even make the list of frustrations! When afros first came out, my father made us wear them because of Black Pride. I think I was twelve and thought ugh! The funny thing is daddy (they were daddy and mommy until they died) was only a quarter black, if that much. We got used to it because it meant no more hot combing on hair washing day. The only problem he had was when we would put our hair up on top with a rubber band. He called it the onion. Every time I see little black girls with that little afro puff on top, I think of him fondly.

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