Pixie cuts, symmetrical dressing and Mad Men for the Fall.

Are you KIDDING ME??? I feel like all of my dreams are coming true. Banana Republic is featuring a Mad Men wardrobe and all the models are wearing LIPSTICK. And big hair, which in case you haven’t seen enough of that ridiculous hair I had in my sister’s wedding, you might see more of it, though self-styled (eh) this fall. http://bananarepublic.gap.com/browse/division.do?cid=5002&mlink=5001,3626906,1&clink=3626906 Just in time for my new fall look…. Which is really overdue considering I had yet another conversation this weekend about wanting a pixie haircut. Like this, in case there’s any confusion still, even though I’ve been talking about this for at least five years.

Yes, I KNOW this hair requires a look. I KNOW.


So yes. I know this look requires effort. I’ve been told this a million times. Years ago when I was all dreamy about it, my Mr. H said, “Ehh, you have to have the face for it.”

To which I said, “Ummmm, so you’re telling me my face is either ugly or fat. Because that’s what THAT MEANS.”

To which he said, “That’s not at all what I said. I meant…you just have to have the face for it.”

Which actually does mean you must have a fairy face, like Tinkerbell, really, OR you have to be slim in the face, which ok, so I’m not Twiggy but I don’t have fat face syndrome.

But then THIS YEAR, the reason has changed. I tested out this conversation in front of Jenny, who is in town, because it’s fun to use friends in conversations when they have no idea what the back story is and no idea what they’re up against and no idea who they’re supposed to be defending. So this is us in Switzerland.

“I want a pixie cut again. And Jenny, you can just chop it all off in scissors so then I HAVE to go get it done, you know, to clean it up after it’s all gone.

“Yes, let’s find a salon,” she exclaimed, like any good friend would do.

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” That was the sound my husband was making while we drank by the water, almost ruining the setting but I was breathing deep and pretending to be diplomatic.

“I don’t know what that means,” I said, though I did. So I carried on. “Chris thinks, Jenny, that I don’t have the face for it.”

“I didn’t say that,” he started, but I had already interrupted.

“Yes, why yes you did. In 2008 you said I don’t have the face for it. So if you’d like to take that back and explain better, here is your chance.” I waited. He squirmed, because now there was two of us and when in numbers, we are dangerous.

“Well, look.” He looked me over, mostly I think to see if the four beers I had was making me agreeable to criticism or belligerent, and in fairness, there’s a fine line, so I made sure my facial expressions were neutral.

“Carry on,” I baited. “Well ok FINE, but you must have a wardrobe, Heather. A lOOK.” He emphasized LOOK as though the word were Chinese, which again, in all fairness, if you looked at me on any given day, you’d wonder what I was thinking when I dressed myself. I’m not colorblind or an angry lesbian or homeless, but you some days can never be too sure. He continued. And he struggled for words, which was fun because I was just WAITNG.

“You dress kind of asymmetrical. Kind of loose.” Like a hooker, I wondered, but I knew he meant something else.

“You mean homeless, lazy and frumpy.” “Well, loose.” Loose is a term made for newly child-birthed vaginas or teeth on small children. Yes, I don’t wear tight clothing but we all knew that wasn’t the meaning. He meant my interpretation of what’s appropriate to wear when you pick your clothing off the floor every morning without the light on.

“Loose and asymmetrical,” giggled Jenny, who is always very diplomatic. “I like that.”

I did not so much like it. But hurrah for me, the Mad Men collection is here, I’m due for more lipstick and once I start dressing like a shape or a hooker, I’ll be good to go….right???

I like to tell myself so.