"You have to say the word."
I paused, of course. You have to pause before you say the word. I was in the chair at my salon, awesome stylist (Jessica) waiting.
"Let's cold rock the mullet," I proclaimed.
My inspirations were myriad. It was 112 degrees in central Texas, to begin with, and I was tired of restraining my heavy, floppy, hot, sweaty, triangular layers with pins, clips, headbands, scarves, rubber bands, my own two hands and anything else within reach. I was tired of the blow-dryer and round brush. I was tired of the non-bangs sitting against my jawline. Shit, I was tired...just, generally.
When I got in for my appointment, I couldn't help but notice that the stylist in the next chair had it going on. Layers! Lots of them. Light, not heavy! Some longer in the back than in the front. Was it? No. It couldn't be.
"Can we do something like that?" I'd asked Jessica. She stopped.
"Her hair is longer than yours in the back," she pointed out.
"That's okay. I'll get there."
"Her layers are crazy short."
"I can do crazy short." I can! Crazy short is not necessarily a problem.
Jessica smiled indulgently. "I need you to say the word. You have to say the word."
And so we went for it. Here's the result:
So now I have a ladymullet. Feedback has been generally positive, and I'm pretty sure that the one person who's started just calling me “Mullet” is being facetious. Sometimes people disagree I have a mullet at all: it’s a shag or a pixie or something else.
All I know is that I had to say the word “mullet” to make it happen. Whatever it is, I can work with it. If I use root booster and flat-iron my ends, I'm as close to the cover of “I Love Rock 'n Roll” as I'm likely to get in this lifetime. For full effect, add these shoes:
If I don’t feel like getting electrical applicances all up in my face during the hottest summer on record, for real, I can put a little product in it and have a Dido flip kind of thing going on. I can wear the longest bits up if I feel like having a ridiculous emo ponytail, which I kind of do sometimes. (Also: hottest summer on record.) Am I alone here?