Please Boys Tell Me We Are Done With The Faux Hawk Hairstyle
Please Boys, Tell Me We Are Done With The Faux Hawk - Don't Get Me Started!
We have all been through a lot of crazy hairstyles through the years. God knows, all you have to do is look on certain pages of my site to see that I had some of the biggest Duran Duran/Flock of Seagulls dos in my day. Through the years I've had to pick and choose (like you do at a flea market's box full of crap stuff where you think you're going to get a deal) to figure out which styles I could wear, which I should wear, and which I just wore because I liked even though I knew they looked pretty bad on me. The faux hawk hairstyle is not one that I ever wore or would wear because frankly all that pointy head business just makes me feel like some cartoon character (yeah, I get it that is why some people do wear this do). But like everything else its season has passed and now I'm just asking...please boys, tell me we are done with the faux hawk - Don't Get Me Started!
Now this is not something that keeps me up late at night or anything but yesterday I saw a guy and it dawned on me that it is time for this hair don't to go away. The guy was probably in his early thirties and was as big as a house (God love him). He had an enormous t-shirt on that was cascading down the front of him like someone using a tarp to cover a large boulder they're moving covering his extended stomach. He had denim shorts on that were a little too long so it gave him even more of the appearance of a little kid (well, a BIG little kid), you know, someone who would live on the next block over from Charlie Brown but was never featured in the Strip. He was white, white whiter than white and you could see his enormous calves go right into his foot without the apparent need of an ankle. On his feet were a classic...Birkenstocks. As I panned back up this mountain that was coming toward me, I couldn't believe what I saw. This guy with enormously pale skin had blacker than black hair and a perfected pointy tiny faux hawk on his head. I mean, it looked like he had just stepped out of the salon, every hair was in place. But here's the deal, because his complexion was so pasty, he looked like a big dollop of sour cream or something with that thing on the top of his head. Ooh wait, not sour cream, he looked liked one of those cookies that I think are peanut butter, have an indentation in them and then they put a Hershey's kiss in the middle of it on the top. Do you know which ones I'm talking about? Well, regardless of the food item, the guy just looked re-damn-diculous! Like a Bob's Big Boy for the New Wave set. I so wanted to tell him that by putting such a vertical line at the top of his head didn't make him look slimmer or anything, just goofy but I couldn't go up to a stranger and say such things (I reserve that kind of stuff for my friends).
Then I had to wonder if he had any friends who felt comfortable enough to tell him how he really looked with that hair? My friends never have any trouble telling me how bad my hair is, in fact one friend made an appointment for me at some salon on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills when I was there one weekend and made me go (and pay the $145) claiming that my hair was an embarrassment and that I needed professional help. The haircut incidentally was very good but hardly worth the price tag in my opinion. Plus it was such a high tone salon that the assistants had assistants so although I've been around salons my whole life, I was so uncomfortable not knowing know who you were supposed to tip, thank or even look at. I was not prepared for the assistant to evaluate my hair, having another assistant take me over to get shampooed (creating a shampoo concoction from several different bottles from the wall of pump bottles that had no labels on them into a paper Dixie cup) then delivering me to where there were all these older Hispanic women who sat on stools in between the wash basins waiting for the shampoo concoction to shampoo my hair. The Hispanic women didn't speak, just washed your hair and it kind of gave you the feeling of them banging clothes against a rock at the river to get them clean with them all lined up that way, not speaking, just cleaning. Finally the second assistant takes you to the stylist's chair and the first assistant does a towel dry, then in comes the stylist like Liberace (sans candelabra) who cuts your hair for thirty minutes and then the first assistant styles it, the stylist comes back and puts three spritzes of hairspray on it and they all stand back admiring their work never saying anything to you. You go to the counter, give your left testicle and first male born son to pay and leave. Although I digressed, I'm trying to say that there are times when you need friends and when you have bad hair, having a friend tell you is definitely right up there.
I understood that we needed the faux hawk, like we needed the beehive hair do. It was something silly and its time would surely come and go but some boys are hanging onto this harder than the ones that are still back on the Caesar cut. The point is, it's okay to have a pointy do for awhile but at some point, it's just dull to look at or be around. So for all of you who are reading this who have one or know someone who has one, please for everyone's sake, ask them to move on. I don't care if it's got bangs or the ever popular messy (it took me eight hours to create) hairstyle but it's time for the faux hawk to fly away, become an endangered species or just die altogether. Please boys, tell me we are done with the faux hawk - Don't Get Me Started!
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An acquired taste, like Tab cola, Some Like It Scott is one gay man's experiences with love, life and things that make him crazy, all done to a musical theatre soundtrack.
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