Back in May I commented on my shift away from my Morrison-esque look that has characterised me for the better part of half a decade. Along with the thousands of days of maintaining shoulder length hair, last week's wind and rain piled in and convinced me to get a haircut.
[IMAGE REMOVED] 1253, my appearance for the last 5 years ; 1406, my appearance for the last 15 minutes
The guy cutting my hair was a certifiable metrosexual - flared jeans, pastel blue t-shirt, spiked die-blonde hair. I'm not condemning the guy, labels are how we communicate ideas. Having my hair cut and having a conversation are not two simultaneous actions associated with me. I'm used to unblinking silence. He asked what I did; rather than say fuck-all, I told him I was on the Social Sciences college course. That's half-true, I never tell outright lies - that way the façade remains unbroken. I actually think it was cheaper than having my shoulder-length hair trimmed. Quite possibly a reimbursement given how much they'll make with the hair I left there.
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