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?
Jacket: Vintage https://www.etsy.com/shop/ELOFSON
Jeans: Kasil Workshop
Shoes: Converse Chuck Taylor
Earrings: Gift from a friend