kidchamp dot net

02.25.09: lau rouge



i've developed a few theories about short hair over the decade or so that i've had it (off and on, disastrously, from ages 8 to 12 or so, and off and on again from my early twenties 'til now). most women wouldn't have it themselves, but are very invested in knowing a woman who does: whenever mine goes short again, everyone tells me how happy they are about it, like i've relieved some sort of collective lady-tension. women also like to tell me about how they want short hair but couldn't pull it off or, most commonly, "don't have the face for it" (which is patently false: if i can do it with this crazy german profile, anyone can). it's a lot of responsibility, shouldering girlfriends' and coworkers' and clerks' issues with a mia farrow 'do. it has its perks, though: when my hair is this short, nothing is too girly. i can wear ridiculous little sundresses, doll shoes, a bright purple track jacket - you name it. i wore a glittery silver cardigan to the office today.

red! hair has its own peanut gallery and associated issues, things i'd forgotten about until i accidentally nuked my head saturday afternoon (my color has faded pretty quickly the last few times i've dyed it, and i overcompensated this time by picking an especially vivacious shade at the drugstore). some of the random new york attention is very sweet: as i came home from pho-errands the other night, a doorman called out, "it is a beautiful color, lady, beautiful!" in a thick caribbean accent. all of the reactions have been good, in fact, except for at the office, which is what i feared when i first realized i was going to be en fuego for a while. i don't know that it's officially unprofessional, but it's close enough that i've been a bit tentative about sitting in the ol' power T at meetings this week. i was already the only short-haired woman on staff, and now...i haven't stuck out this much in a while, and it's taking a while to get comfortable. the parts of me that are getting old on schedule will be relieved when i dull back down, and the part of me that's still thirteen is thrilled to look like a cartoon. is that sentence depressing?

at the other end of the spectrum, an unequivocally heartening offering from a short-haired woman: i give you rachel maddow, mixologist (preparing the jack rose, one of her favorite cocktails, at the air america studios). on distractions, rebecca traister on gwyneth paltrow's GOOP (after the valentine's day edition of the newsletter featured especially bank-breaking recipes):

But today, I just had to shake my head in something like admiration. It's almost enough to convince me that La Paltrow is performing some kind of service with GOOP. Whether she's offering champagne-wishes-and-caviar-dreams escapism or just the opportunity to hate a stranger every Thursday, she's distracting us from the worries of not being able to afford our caviar this week. And so I say, perhaps for the only time ever: Gwyneth, you go! Fuck the haters! Shine on, you crazy rich girl!

i concur, r-traist. i concur.