'I Had A Bob For Just Six Months But It Changed My Hair Forever'
Considering that it was the most dramatic hair transformation of my life, my decision to go for a bob happened quickly. Really quickly. The appointment for the haircut had been reserved in my diary for a few weeks, but it wasn't until a day or two before that I had decided that the chop wouldn't be an average trim, rather a severe cut – 11 inches off, in fact.
Forgive me for sounding a little too earnest, but the choice to go so short was informed by the fact that I wanted to donate my discarded lengths to Little Princess Trust, which provides free real hair wigs for children and young people experiencing hair loss due to cancer treatment. I'd planned to take my un-dyed, now extra-long hair back to its pre-pandemic just-beyond-the-shoulder length, which would have meant cutting off and donating around six inches. But I learnt that the longer the better for the making of the wigs and so I settled at chin-length.
My mum braided my hair in a series of bunches and my hairdresser made a precise cut before finessing my all-new bob hairstyle. And so, 11 inches later, the hair that had come to define my 'look' for the majority of my life was gone. The intention had been to donate as much hair as possible, so the idea of becoming a first-time bob wearer was soon an afterthought.
I left the salon lighter, admittedly, and quickly shared sassy, posy pictures to surprise my fans who I'd kept in the dark about my image overhaul. For the first few days, I failed to recognise my reflection in shop windows and kept reaching behind my neck to pull my hair into a ponytail that no longer existed. It was just a haircut but I noticed the changes were seismic and immediate.
Putting back on the clothes I'd arrived at the salon in felt different. My snake print car coat felt immediately more prim and retro as my flicking bob brushed above the collar that had previously gone hidden under my long, long hair. My square-frame sunglasses felt incredibly derivative in a way that they hadn't before.
Above anything, I noticed I felt cooler. I'd always wondered how to might feel to be a girl with a bob, unfazed about hiding behind her hair, which I soon realised I had been doing for a lifetime. Long hair has its own subtext and markers; of youth, of femininity, things that I had subconsciously prioritised in keeping my hair long for almost 30 years.
With my long hair gone, I felt liberated. I'd never been the girl with a chameleonic approach to box dye or someone who shifted styles with the wind. Instead, long, subtly layered hair with a full fringe had been my long-time request with a trip to the hairdresser – less a cut request, more a maintenance service.
The pandemic changed us all and for me, it manifested most in this somewhat spur-of-the-moment decision to chop 'all' my hair off. Knowing that I'd still not be 'back in public' for some time offered me a comfort blanket that the previous Monday to Friday in the office and Saturday to Sunday out and about wouldn't have. I had a place to hide, even if the hair now cropped perfectly in a Zoom window. It was the perfect time to risk the bob, and it paid off.
In its 'before life', my long, heavy, thick hair fell poker straight regardless of the hours of styling. Now shorter, it naturally flicked in a way I'd never anticipated and had a natural wave I thought I'd left in my pre-school era. My bob looked styled with laissez-faire precision even when I had just rough-dried it. I liked how it looked with a crewneck cut, close to the neck, and had it been a more sartorially opportune time I'm sure I'd have enjoyed it worn with a plethora of other options, be it a sharp-collared button down or a simple knit twin set.
But, like the pandemic, my bob wasn't to be forever. I loathed how I couldn't tie it up and its only option was to leave it as is. I missed my piled-high ponytails, my monthly dalliance with French plaits, or a bow placed over a half-up, half-down style. I missed being the girl who spent time styling her hair. I missed playing with it, fussing over it, putting too much product in it and piling on too many accessories. I also missed that I didn't really look like 'me' anymore. It sounds silly but there just felt like a piece of me was missing.
I had a few trims after the initial big chop but they were more to ensure it grew out well, rather than to maintain a blunt chop. Becoming a 'bob girl' had been a fun flirtation, but I couldn't shake that intangible feeling of not quite feeling like myself.
In the last four years my hair has slowly returned to its long lengths and it's never been healthier. Post-bob, I consciously vowed to look after it with extra care, using special masks and shampoos with greater awareness. But the aftermath of the cut has been greater than its physical impact.
I now know that a brief beauty dabble is worth the experimentation, the risk and eventually the reward. Sure, my hair has never been in a better condition but I'm also much more willing to take a risk with an aesthetic I've spent almost three decades curating. Heck, since then I've even grown out my fringe (for now) and allowed my brows to, at times, grow unruly. Had you told me that I'd embrace change so willingly in the depths of lockdown in October 2020, I would have never believed you. We've only the bob to blame.
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