Skip to main content

On My Daughter's Hair

My idea of the ideal haircut is "Helen Mirren hair." I realize that today's youth may not look to an octogenarian British actress for hair guidance--but that doesn't mean I need to be happy about the realization.



Inspector Jane Tennison of "Prime Suspect" is flawed, but she is certainly not an insubstantial human being. She makes use of her time. I'll bet she does not worry about lice; she has a short, striking bob, and so I suspect that the lice leave her alone. Also, I think that the unfussy hair improves her agility; she can take down criminals because she is not tripping over her own flowing locks. It seems to me that 2026 Demi Moore--for example--would have a harder time saving the world. She would have a harder time because of all that hair.

I have to allow my daughter to make her own hair choices--because the alternative would be insufferable. But it is so exhausting to bear witness. Susie wants the Demi Moore style, but she doesn't want to do any work to maintain the hair. I understand. I would like to have a "Wagner Moura" waistline, but I cannot bring myself to spend more than five minutes on the exercise bike. 

I don't have any solutions here. Just sending a report from a particular boring, irritating road that I'm traveling on. I shudder to think about "the Instagram years"--which cannot be very far away from Susie's present day, her current Monday morning, here in 2026.



 

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more

My Favorite Pop Song

  One thing I admire about Prince is his weirdly pretentious verses: Dream, if you can, a courtyard-- An ocean of violets in bloom. Also: Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. No one else writes like this. Did people try to shoot down these choices? Did a producer say, "We'd like to rethink this one... Touch, if you will, my stomach...."  I can't help but wonder. But it's the chorus that makes this a classic. It's direct and universal--and it ends with that bizarre flourish, the allusion to "the crying doves." (Prince's song was number one in America for quite a while; it defeated Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark.") How can you just leave me standing-- Alone in a world that's so cold? Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold. Maybe you're just like my mother; She's never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cr...
Post a Comment
Read more