Recently, it occurred to me how I almost never wear my hair back. I was paging
through old posts and began to notice just how little I
alter my hair from day to day. I don’t
often curl it, never braid it, and hardly ever pull it back off my face. I find this odd since so many of my friends
with long hair always say, “I don’t even know why I have long hair.” I just throw it back in a ponytail every
day.” Nope, not me though. Me, I take the ultimate slacker route by
sticking to the same old, same old. No
effort here folks. I just let it ride.
Speaking of ride, the day I photographed the pictures above I was inspired by my newly, “greased,” back look. It’s like I put in a ponytail and immediately
had the need to look tough. Was it the
way this hairdo seemed to accentuate my habitual resting bitch face? Or could it be that one little strand was
being pulled too tight making me a titch more aggressive than I would usually
be? I don’t know. Honestly, chances are it could’ve been all
the Rockabilly music that’s been dominating my turntable as of late. Whatever the real inspiration behind this
posts’ look was, the fact still remains I left the house that morning feeling
the overwhelming need to spark up a Lucky Strike against the bottom of my
Converse. (Which thank God I didn’t
because about a million years ago I accidentally got a pack of non filter Lucky
Strikes out of a bar vending machine and after smoking three of them I felt
like I had an entire pallet of pavers resting on my chest.) Of course, now that I quit smoking I could’ve
just rolled a pack in my sleeve, but cigarettes as a prop is just lame. It’s so much cooler when you’re actually
smoking the…did I just revert back to high school mentality there?
I guess I’m rambling on because I thought
this post could be an interesting opportunity to describe my thought process
while trying to construct an outfit. On
this particular day it went like this; took one look in the mirror after waking
up and gasp at the holocaust of hair on my head. Decide it’s not salvageable and even though
it broke with the routine I so desperately cling to, I pull my hair back into
a ponytail. As soon as I do so the woman
in the mirror is suddenly a different person.
She looks edgy. She looks kinda
badass. Actually, she looks like she
hasn’t showered. Really she looks
extremely tired. Maybe she should just
call it a day on the blog pictures and go back to bed but…she doesn’t! Instead she starts humming her favorite new
album of, “surf,” songs while searching her bottomless closet for those, oh so
cute, Chuck Taylors she’s been meaning to revisit for over six months now. From there it’s simply common sense to cuff
the bottom of my jeans and add a shiny black jacket with embroidered red
eagles on it. Basically, it’s formulaic.
(Ponytail plus Converse plus ‘50’s
inspired tunes equals one breathless, “Betty.”)
I say breathless because this particular character has been sucking down
cigarettes in the ultimate quest to be cool.
I promise, I’m just kidding Mom.
I only want to look like the cool kid, not actually be one again. Even though I seem to be wearing the same shoes I did back then. I’m also totally certain
the high school me would’ve seriously dug the jacket I’m now wearing. Interesting, maybe my greasy hair and pair of
Chucks have little to do with the construction of a, “look,” and more to do
with the acceptance of an unpolished self.
Woah!...that deserves a cigarette, doesn't it?
-r.
Jacket: Vintage https://www.etsy.com/shop/ELOFSON
Jeans: Kasil
Workshop
Shoes: Converse Chuck Taylor
Backpack: Bess
Earrings: Gift
from a friend
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