I've been cutting and trimming my own hair off and on for years, despite the fact that it's never really worked out. It's usually motivated by finances, tipsiness, interaction with some creative type with an awesome coiffure, or, most often, the influence of some book or movie involving a hairdo which, in that moment, seems imminently necessary to my future happiness and success. Because my hair's curly, I don't need to be anywhere and I don't look in the mirror much, it usually just looks medium-bad, and I can get away with scarves or ponytails for the necessary few months - although there have been a few expensive occasions when I've required professional correction.

But cutting your own hair is one thing. The responsibility of someone else's is quite a different matter, especially when your primary experience is with a grandfather whose hair resembles Andrew Jackson's at the best of times and who crazy-glued his teeth into his mouth for special occasions. For years I've resisted trimming friends' and boyfriends' hair. But in a recent fit of economical zeal that also saw the production of several inedible baguettes, it seemed like the time was nigh for me to assume the duties of household barber. My boyfriend's hair is curlyish, he's not particular, and he survived a childhood of at-home dos of varying quality, so I figured I could handle it. The first trim was a resounding success. Over the course of two hours and a kind of horrible but also compelling miniseries about the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, lock by lock, I managed to achieve a trim that looked exactly like his hair pre-trim.

Emboldened by my success, I became ambitious and exhorted him to choose a hairstyle. Inspiration struck not long after. While watching, at my behest, the very bizarre minor Michael Powell film A Canterbury Tale, Slim was enraptured by the hair of one of the central characters. The hair in question was a sort of cross between a GI's crew cut (the character's a GI) and Morrissey's pompadour. I had my doubts, but I was persuaded. We set aside an evening, spread the sheet on the floor and positioned the chair in the middle of the living room. At first I was tentative, but as the hair began to take shape under my fingers, I became drunk with power. My scissors flew faster. The hair grew stranger. And then I reached for the clippers.

There is a moment when a haircut becomes irredeemable. When it goes from "maybe it's supposed to look that way" to "complete fuck-up." If that's a line in the sand, let's say I leapt that line like the best long-jumper in the world. And then I tried to fix it, and everything got worse. I looked down in horror. Bald patches alternated with clumps of Eraserhead-bounty. He looked like Neal Cassady if Kerouac had cut his hair on a bender and then his hair also got caught in a thresher and then there was gum in it and then he had to go in for a partial labotomy circa 1928. He looked horrifying.

"How's it coming?" he asked, cheerfully oblivious.

"It needs a little evening," I said. I snipped ineffectually. I patted. I got the comb. I tried to style it into several elaborate mini-combovers before he saw it. Then I could put the reckoning off no longer. He walked to the bathroom. There was a prolonged silence.

"Well," he said.

"Yes," I replied.

There was more silence.

"Let's get drinks," I said. "On me."

And then a very miraculous thing happened. "Cool haircut," said a guy on the subway. Was said guy ludicrous? Perhaps. Was he sporting knickers, suspenders, and a tee-shirt that had been slashed to the navel? Maybe. But he was just the beginning. It is, apparently, a truth universally acknowledged that if you look aggressively ridiculous and people are insecure enough, they will herald your boldness as confidence. And because we live in world as concerned with superficial relativism as it is actually judgmental, emperor's new clothes are apparently the order of the day. In any event, by evening's end, I had agreed to cut the hair of no fewer than three acquaintances. By night's end, my boyfriend had given himself a buzz cut. And the bread was as leaden and inedible as it had been a few hours before, because there was simply no pretending that that was hip.
I can fuck up a haircut the old-fashioned way, thanks, but for the rest of you, here's how the kids are, allegedly, doing it.

Per Capita Savings: Home Barbering Grows in Recession, With Hairy Results [Wall Street Journal]
Flowbee Gone Wild [Wall Street Journal]

Writes Sykes (natch) in Vogue (natcher) about Gwyneth (natchest),

For Gwyneth Paltrow, radically changing her signature look last spring was a major personal and commercial decision. She explains,"I was shooting...and Orlando Pita was blowdrying my long blonde hair, and I was like, 'I actually can't take it anymore! lease cut off my hair!' He was like, 'What?' So we called Mario Testino [who was shooting the pictures]. And I texted Aerin Lauder [creative director at Estee Lauder, where Paltrow has a contract] to say, 'Is it OK?' She said it was OK. So I cut it off. I felt like a weight was lifted." Her new hair enabled her to pull off a new style sleek minidresses, vertiginous avantgarde heels and, of course, to launch legions of imitators."I trimmed it a bit shorter after that, and Orlando said, 'Everyone's coming in and asking for this short hair.'"

The haircut, described variously as "perfect, coolly swingy length," "this new weird length," and not a haircut at all but "a hair length," should, according to one hairdresser, "appear blunt but should never be blunt, as blunt looks cheap." It shows off Sykes' "very long" neck. It sounds like shoulder-length but oh, wait: "If the hair grows too much and starts resting on the shoulders, suddenly your look goes from fashiony glam to soccer mom."

All I can ascertain is that it's perfect. "It's perfect in the sense that if you put it into a ponytail, it's still cool. It's still got an attitude." "You can wear more things: With prints and florals you look polished rather than boho, and with sexy things it looks chic as opposed to cheap. I barely even need a blowout." But oh noes! Now everyone has the mysterious, perfect haircut!

I called Lauren Santo Domingo the next morning to discuss the elated disposition this hair produces. She was still thrilled with her hair, although there was one downside."I made Valery promise he wouldn't do the same cut for everyone else," she said, and then let out a wistful long sigh:"But everyone is going to him for shorter hair. So now we all have the same hair. Again.

Don't worry, Plum: the proles have absolutely no idea what you're on about. Your perfect haircut is safe.

Vogue [Official Site]

Writes the anonymous person:

Is it true that a woman with a short hairstyle is subconsciously indicating that she does not want sex? My wife had a drastic haircut four days before our wedding and our sex life was a damp squib from the start. The erotic side of our marriage has died completely. My wife considers me childish and says that as all other elements of our relationship are fine, I should not want more than this.

First, a few questions: While the sexual and anthropological importance of hair is well-documented as an indicator of health, beauty and desirability; and while long, lustrous hair is equated with youth, femininity and wanton sexuality; and while short hair is sometimes perceived as either asexually androgynous or I-give-up mom style... really? Is he serious? Second: did they not have sex before their wedding? When did this "damp squib" start? Because if it was pre-wedding, then it seems highly circumstantial to blame the haircut (and maybe they should have addressed these issues beforehand); and if not, there's not much basis for comparison. Is he just looking to the haircut as a means of figuring out whether he can actually blame his wife for this? How long have they been married? Do they have kids? Has her hair grown out or has she continued to cut it? I think it also needs to be asked: was she happy with the haircut, or did it go horribly wrong and make her feel unattractive? Inquiring minds want to know.

The actual advice columnist doesn't seem to be bothered by this lack of information. She says,

Cutting one's hair does not necessarily point to an avoidance of sex, although deliberately reducing one's attractiveness in a spouse's eyes may well signal some desire to push them away. You sound angry and full of longing for a fulfilling sexual relationship - and that is understandable.

Wait, "not necessarily?" I get that advice columnists — especially of the respectable, clinical psychologist variety, probably try not to judge and there are so stupid questions, but this question was idiotic, conveying as it did a certain reductive lack of self-insight and, if you want to go all out, anachronistic homophobic undertones. Besides which, doesn't it seem unlikely that anyone would strive to make herself deliberately unattractive in anyone's eyes at her own wedding? Anyway, does she know he hates her haircut, or is this some weird passive-aggressive thing, where this guy prefers to write anonymously to a stranger and pretend his marriage's deep problems can be summed up by a few inches of keratins? Connolly suggests sitting down and talking — without judging — and find out what's really behind the sexual issues. Sure. But if he thinks the clues to his marital problems lie in a trip to the salon, maybe a set of extensions would be more to the point.

Sexual Healing [The Guardian]

[Image via Moviecritic.com]

I always do my own brows, though I only got one bikini wax this summer and getting another seems like a waste of cash, especially in New York when bikini season is fleeting. I do, however, get an overpriced haircut once every 2 months, so I spend about $45 a month on grooming. Anna spends about $20 a month on various beauty regimens, while Megan got her last brow wax/pedicure in May. Maria usually gets a pedicure and bang trim once a month, though after the summer is over, pedicures will be out.

Have you cut salon visits out of your schedule since the economy's been in the crapper, or do you continue to wax with reckless financial abandon? Women and finance expert Suze Orman probably thinks even our modest beautification efforts are completely frivolous and would recommend making bikini wax out of old peanut butter and fishing tackle or some shit.

California Beautiful [NPR]

Meanwhile, here in the U.S., a weak economy means fewer cosmetic surgeries. The number of Lasik vision corrections is down, reports the International Herald Tribune. "There's a strong correlation between consumer confidence and U.S. Lasik procedures," says Joanne Wuensch, an analyst with BMO Capital Markets. "People don't spend money on Lasik if they feel like things are really bad." And yet! No economy is bad for getting your tits done.

Millennium Research Group is forecasting a 5.5% increase in breast implant sales this year. Explains Aviva Shedletzky, a senior analyst with Millennium: "Our society is so focused on youth, and people really want to look good. So as long as there's at least some discretionary income, people will keep getting them."

Frankly, it seems long hair would be better in a bad economy — haircuts can be expensive! But are finances and cosmetics linked on a personal level? Do you scrimp on lip gloss when the chips are down? Or do you consider beautification a necessity, right up there with food and rent?

Stocks & Blondes... Japanese Women Style Their Hair to Suit the Times [InventorSpot]
Japanese Women Hairstyles Track Economy Ups And Downs [Reuters]
Cosmetic Procedures Decline As U.S. Economy Weakens [IHT]