Blog, first person
Memories of Teenage Style Horrors
When I was about 13, I decided to cut my own hair. I’m still not sure what came over me – it was a moment of madness that started badly and got worse as I tried to even up my asymmetrical cuts with further, even more unflattering blows of the scissor. When I looked in the mirror and saw the carnage that I had wrought, it was all I could do not to scream.
My older sister came to fetch me for school and found me crying on my bed, and when I answered her “What’s wrong” by simply lifting my head and letting her see my new do, she kindly stopped herself from laughing or clawing her eyes out in horror at what she saw. Instead, she performed that most vital task of older sisters, which is to dole out fashion advice and styling tips to hormonally confused teenage girls.
With a little bit of product and an understanding of how to use it (at the time I thought that a half a can of mousse was necessary for a single application) she toned down the frizz, and then worked some arcane magic with various bobby pins and flower clips. I was almost afraid to look in the mirror, given the travesty I had seen the last time, but she’d managed to give me not just an acceptable style, but one that was actually flattering.
Her construction held up until after school, when she took me to a hairdresser to have the damage repaired, but it taught me a valuable lesson – no matter how bad things may look, if you know how to style and accessorize, you can end up looking wonderful. Also, you can always rely on your big sister to fix things, no matter how awful it may seem.
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