「Lena Dunham On Why You Should Cut Your Own Hair A Minimum Of Once」の版間の差分
GOJErmelinda (トーク | 投稿記録) (ページの作成:「<br>With rebellious, residence-minimize hair influencing the runways, Lena Dunham reflects on her personal self-styled historical past-and the ability of selecting up the…」) |
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2025年9月7日 (日) 14:31時点における最新版
With rebellious, residence-minimize hair influencing the runways, Lena Dunham reflects on her personal self-styled historical past-and the ability of selecting up the Wood Ranger Power Shears order now. I'll always remember the primary time I cut my own bangs: the Wood Ranger Power Shears for sale, the adrenaline. I was twelve years outdated, standing in the fluorescent mild of my parents’ bathroom with a pair of orange-handled craft scissors, unaware that I was standing on the precipice of self-definition. The sound of the primary chop, thick and harsh, was thrilling. I watched my hair pile up in the sink, then looked into the mirror: I had given myself blunt, successive layers that resembled a staircase headed to nowhere. Nothing concerning the haircut could have been perceived as expert, fetching, and Wood Ranger Power Shears for sale even sane. But I had never felt extra alive. The response in school the next day wasn’t particularly optimistic, and that i wore a bandanna for the rest of the yr.
But when I’d come home, I liked to take away it and look at myself, Brooklyn’s own Joan of Arc, freed from the tyranny of the Rachel, of chunky blonde highlights, of the invisible contract my pals and i appeared to have signed promising that our hair would mirror some sense of eager to be wished. A series of similar experiments adopted: my own pixie reduce, so oddly shaped it appeared like a 1950s Peter Pan wig; Bettie Page bangs blunt at my ears, topped with some drugstore black dye and a pastel clip meant for an infant. Each episode was met with sighs from my dad and mom and confusion from my friends, but I remained committed to the notion that my hair was only for me, another avenue for radical self-reinterpretation. It’s an thought that's gaining traction in present style conversations. Just ask Grace Hartzel. "It’s cool to point out your private style," the St. Louis-born mannequin says of treating her gamine, Jane Birkin locks as a blank canvas.
Hartzel used to dye them a shade of "ugly red" before she hacked her personal set of bangs with "cheap scissors" from CVS three years ago. "I was feeling really caught," the 21-12 months-outdated recalls. "My mother and father have been like, ‘Your profession is over. You’re done.’" Hedi Slimane disagreed, casting Hartzel as his fall 2014 unique at Saint Laurent and catapulting her-and the precise bangs that despatched her parents into paroxysms-into the modeling stratosphere. After debuting a heat honey hue for Slimane’s closing Saint Laurent show earlier this yr, Hartzel has embraced the season’s growing DIY hair spirit once again, collaborating with hairstylist Guido Palau on a messy, gender-fluid Duran Duran crop with a Blade Runner aggressiveness for Vogue. There's one thing appealing about good old style Breck Girl hair, after all-which I understood briefly when I used to be sixteen by way of my greatest pal at summer time camp, Joana. Slim and blonde, she had the proper glossy mane of an Olsen twin back once they had been nonetheless making motion pictures about catastrophes in Paris.
For the subsequent few years, I labored arduous-with a flatiron and Sun-In-to be that blonde, Wood Ranger Power Shears for sale that glossy. Then Joana went to art school. When she arrived in September, she nonetheless had her present-pony locks. But by October she had shorn her hair right into a mullet even a drag-racing enthusiast in the deepest South wouldn’t understand. The Rod Stewart mayhem on high made method for a stringy waterfall of over-bleached tendrils creeping down her back. Matched with a new wardrobe of spandex pants and obscure band T-shirts, she was even more of a revelation: powerful, stunning, somewhat indignant. I, too, dumped a bottle of peroxide on my head shortly thereafter, enlisting Camilla, Oberlin College’s resident stylist, to provide me a look that lived somewhere between Lee Krasner and my great-aunt Doad. While touring in Eastern Europe over winter break, I caught sight of myself in a bookstore window in Kraków and thought, with delight, that I looked like someone for whom magnificence was intensely private.