More Blondie than ever!

Allow me to verge into the petty (ok, pettier) for a post, won't you?

I cut my hair on the weekend. Not a standard "inch-off-the-bottom-please-ma'am" trim, but a substantial reconfiguration of my follicary assets. I went in with no real idea in particular, placing blind trust in my delightfully snarky hairdresser as he snipped and snapped with reckless abandon.

The results were (are) surprising. My hair is now shorter, chunkier and funkier, with a heavy fringe of bangs—full-on, no-foolin’ bangs—skirting my face. I’m not sure if I love it yet—I continue to be surprised by it, still, nearly three days later—but one thing is certain: it really does make me look noticeably different.

Since then, many people have saw fit to comment on it, to varying degrees of complementariness. To date, my new 'do has been likened to that of:

1. Debbie Harry (HELLS yeah so kickass!)
2. A blonde Chrissie Hynde (no complaints there)
3. Daryl Hannah in Blade Runner (erm…okay)
4. Me, circa my Grade One school photo (???)

Okay, the last comparison is my own, but you can see a recurring trend here: I have ’80s hair. Here’s hoping this revival everyone keeps talking about will last a little while, or at least until my bangs can grow out.

On an unrelated note, I feel obliged to mention two most excellent Parkdale venues visited over the weekend to celebrate the anniversary of my dear roommate’s birth: the Cadillac Lounge and Stones Place. Yes, a ’50s-tinged biker-joint-cum-honky-tonk-roadhouse and a Rolling-Stones-theme-bar-cum-bordello. Strange? Perhaps. But both proved to be heaps of fun, reminding me for the 10,000th time of how much I love my neighbourhood.