I can see you. Yes, you. Hid behind your sofa, crouched in an undignified squat, shivering like a Chihuahua on top of a shed. But it’s alright, I promise, come away. That’s it, come on over here, have a sit down, Miley Cyrus’s new hair isn’t that bad… well, actually, maybe you should just go on back to the shadows.
Yes, whilst us average folk dodder about our day wielding biros and wooden chip forks, Miley Cyrus has done yet another miraculous, amazinggggg thing, creating radical shockwaves with a pair of scissors. No, not to tarnish yet another potentially gentle outfit with rogue midriff or thigh tearings, but rather more hysterically, has chopped off all of her locks. And I mean chopped.
Although this may initially look like someone has just come at her with a meat cleaver, mussed it up a little, and then ran off into the distance in a midst of giggles, this was done with unbelievable intention. The style exemplifies Cyrus for all the wrong reasons; it is brash, cocksure and overwhelming – and if you didn’t think this before, the loud peroxide dye job will definitely do it for you. Cyrus recently took to Twitter to flaunt the devastating nest, including a snapshot of her getting her locks hacked to deploy the harrowing process. Naturally, Cyrus fans have reacted with all the kindred spirit of afterbirth, as she was metaphorically hung, drawn and quartered by her very own alter-ego, Hannah Montana’s, umbilical cord. In other words, they did not like it one bit. And who could blame them? Surely not even a parent could love that look. I’m almost half-expecting Billy-Ray to bring out a new song entitled something along the lines of ‘Diabolical Hair Follicles’ with his Western twang where stubble and a toothpick are entitled to every syllable, but it’s early days. Maybe it could be a number one hit. Or a number two all over… or a short back and sides.
Anyway, NUFF PUNZ. To summarise – Miley Cyrus is rubbish. I didn’t like her before, what with her surname seeming like a spelling mistake and that her real first names are Destiny Hope (no, she is not part of a nunnery), but now, after this, I really am going to cancel my subscription to Hannah Montana magazine. No plaudits will be given to the stylist that braved a pair of scissors whilst severely inebriated (he must’ve been, surely?), in the same way that the hairdresser that allowed Britney Spears to racoon her own head should be taken down with a very strong tranquilizer. And, through similar circumstances to Spears, everyone initially assumed something awful, some immediate crisis, must’ve shifted the balance in Cyrus’s life. Mother hurt? Fiancee left her? Billy-Ray stuck under a bus? ANYTHING! We cried, clutching our long blonde wigs and throwing fists at pasty-faced children on the street. But no, she just wanted to be ‘different’. She half-worried us for nothing.
But what is the most frightening is that, after all the kicking and screaming, the fans might – I don’t know – emulate her? The botched crop could be the newest trend like the cut-out boob top in ‘Mean Girls’, undoing our society as we know it and demonising our children! Surely the end is near, I can see the light, the pilgrims are coming to get us! Well, not quite. But although this may sound ridiculous, influencing a nation with a simple cut and blow-dry can be done, if the celebrity shouts loud enough.
Other hair trends such as The Rachel and The David (Beckham) have, in themselves, defined a nation. Devout football fans would track Beckham’s every hair style choice, the most idolised being the Mohican, whilst the yellowed ‘draped curtain’ look which we may all grimace about now was a huge deal circa 90s. But the ‘do wasn’t made as a fashion statement because adorners necessarily liked the style, moreso because they idolised the man himself. With any trend, it is less about the nature of the statement, but more about being an extension of your chosen celebrity, this way being made easier with a little bit of mindless chatter in a cushy hairdressers and a few short sweeps of a clipper.
In general, haircuts aren’t much to shout about; a trim every six weeks or so or a few highlights here and there, it’s nothing more than a commodity of upkeep for some. But there are some moments where essentialism is eluded, anyone following a designer cut will know this. The amount of teenage girls that now whinge about how difficult it is to grow out their Frankie Sanford hair are now in a ‘do or die’ situation. Even our mood on a given day can affect the way we wish to tackle our fine bonces. Events such as messy break-ups at first will render a girl to tears, sending her crying into her Cornflakes or spluttering over 50 Shades. But then, she’ll dry off her tears, lift her handbag to the crest of her arm like a First Lady, and strut to the hairdressers demanding a ‘new look’. It happens to most women, almost behaving like a humble cathartic wonder, the same way that shopping after a depressing week and coming back with hordes of high-heels feels like it simply ‘does the trick’.
Unrealistically, we wish to become our favourite celeb with a snip and a sweep. We want to vicariously live our lives through them, and if we can’t have their glamorous life, we sure as hell will have their glamorous hair, with the glamorous face and glamorous body in the package, thank you very much. Well, we wouldn’t want to emulate an unattractive celebrity, would we? Scour the internet pages for ‘most followed hair trends’ and you’ll see all the beautiful faces that crop up. Jen Aniston, Meg Ryan and Marilyn Monroe are all there for the reason that they largely appeal to men, with women adopting their styles in the hopes that it would act as a kind of Venus flytrap that could bring men to their knees with one tousled flick.
And it is with this seamless pattern that Miley Cyrus’s new look could potentially catch on. Growing up and being deemed ‘fit’ by most grunting teenage boys, the future looks pretty dishevelled or ‘edgy’, as Cyrus will probably dumbly muse on Larry King or Graham Norton, spewing about more unfulfilling odds and ends that have about as much to them as a half-time pie. And even though we may all sit back and begrudgingly roll our eyes like wayward gentries in a brothel, we are forced to, in the words of Noah Griffith in The Sitter, ‘respect it, don’t neglect it’, because as a trend it will have momentary influence, before reaching its peak and subsequently floundering. And if that doesn’t happen, we can just find a suitable paper bag and dunk it over Cyrus’s noggin. No air-holes, though. Thanks.
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