Hair Like a Dust-Bunny's

Sunglasses: secondhand, $2 from thrift store
Necklaces: one from Downeast Outfitters ($8), one from Wal-Mart ($5)
Shirt: secondhand and probably hand-dyed, free from clothing swap
Watch: Roxy, gift
Bracelet: vintage family heirloom, free
Skirt: Ross, $15
Sandals: Downeast Outfitters, $12

Whenever I'm getting my hair cut or colored, I have a dilemma to consider: Do I do my hair in the morning, before heading to the salon, or do I leave it messy? Messy hair is easier, and if it's all getting reworked in a few hours by the hairdresser anyway, it seems silly to put much effort in. Messy is usually my chosen approach. But then I get to the salon, and all the stylists there have rad, well-done hair; by comparison, I feel like a dust-bunny someone swept out from under the couch. The memory of this feeling is what makes me second-guess my decision to go messy the following time. Le sigh. I've made my bed and will proceed to lie in it.

Going to the salon hasn't been a regular part of my life until recently. My mom cut my hair all through my growing-up years, and when I decided to start dying it as a senior in high school, she handled that as well. I think I really got tuned in to the power of a well-timed, well-done change in the hair department after my first big breakup (only big breakup, actually). It seemed a fine time to go short for the first time in my life, and go short I did. I felt like a new woman (a new woman who shortly thereafter fell in love with her future husband, I might add -- coincidence? I think not). Behold, from early 2008.

One of my dearest, oldest friends on God's green earth, Tyrel (the man responsible for the afore-mentioned short haircut), is taking his hands to my tresses this afternoon. I hope to have something lovely and new to show off for you tomorrow.