Haircuts: why bother? This question has been lodged by my 15 year-old son, and I’m honestly at a loss here. I mean, really – why do we go to all the time and expense, just to keep our locks in order? What’s a bit of ratty outgrowth or a few split ends compared to an extra $60 in the bank? I mean, that’s not really an argument for him, because I’ve always paid for his haircuts (obviously), but hey, I wouldn’t mind not paying for them.
It’s become especially pointless in Jethro’s case since he started wearing his hair in a scruffy bun several months ago. Not that he’d want it to grow endlessly – he has limited patience for air drying and hair dryers alike – but a simple swipe with a pair of kitchen scissors would do the job just as well as making him go to our usual upmarket salon near St James Place.
It’s true that they do a stellar job there, and I’m far from packing in my monthly cut, colour and blow-dry appointment. But as far as Jethro’s hair goes, it’s just a waste of coin. My only concern is that he’ll go round to his mates’ places and let his hair out of the bun, and the other parents will notice the DIY hack job and conclude that I’m neglecting him. He does play the bass, though, so he could probably pass it off as cool rather than merely shabby.
To be clear, I’ll still be making him use Aveda products. Hairdressers know their stuff, at the end of the day, and I’m not willing to let Jethro stop washing his long hair – or, worse, start using some inorganic muck from the supermarket. I mean, I can’t control whether he washes his hair or how he goes about, but I can try to impart the value of keeping oneself from looking too scruffy, even if scruffy is cool.
I’ve had my fair share of scruffy chic moments, let me tell you. I lived through the grunge era, after all.