I am currently developing a pretty strong girl-crush on new songstress Lucy Rose. Along with my previous girl-crushes I not only want to sit YouTubing her all day, I also pathalogically want to become her.
Lucy’s style is resolutely folksie; she has that “ran my fingers through it this morning and left” hair; ankle tickling, just-too-short jeans and a fine array of jumpers. All of the above I have covered, strap a guitar on me and I could almost be mistaken for someone with talent. But there is one thing about her look which I am missing, something that has hounded me most of my adult life; being slightly obsessed with Lucy Rose has raised the Fringe Question.
Lucy has one of those fringes that sits gently on her face, it makes her look young, carefree and completely suits her “girl with guitar and jumper” style. I want one SO BADLY but to chop or not to chop?!
I fell for Tyra Banks that little bit more when she added a bang; she suddenly became a tad more approachable and a little less diva; Zooey Daschanel would lose most of her kook-appeal without hers and having a dark bob void of fringe is a punishable waste.
The Fringe Question is one that I have jostled with for most of my twenties. Having had one enforced upon my face throughout my pre-teens it was the best present ever when aged 13 I was finally allowed to grow it out. Cue lots of hideous in-between stages and worries that I had done the wrong thing. My hair grows very slowly so it was almost a year until my fringe tucked itself within the rest of my mane and I stopped looking like I had some kind of back to front mullet.
It was almost at this moment that I desperately wanted one back and started experimenting with pulling the back of my hair over my forehead and sellotaping it in place. But having spent such a long time growing my fringe out, I let the idea go and discovered dye instead.
The last time I visited the hairdressers I did venture to bring up the Fringe Question hoping she would shrill: “I’m SO glad you mentioned it! From the moment you walked in I was ACHING to cut a fringe in! It’s a crime you have been allowed to live without one! Years of geek-chic perfection have been wasted! Lets get to work and right this wrong!!”
But she very much didn’t do this.
She told me in no unceratin terms that I “would look about 12″ and that people would “probably laugh”. Harsh, but almost certainly true.
It is the paradox of the fringe that though it suits the youthful face, it can also subvert many a line-free visage to ridicule inducing levels of infancy. There are times when having a TOO young face IS a bad thing, and the Fringe Question brings this into stark light.
I fear, for me, the answer is: “Yes, a fringe will make you look like you are sitting your GCSEs and that you are simply hiding a spotty forehead”. I may well have to limit my single white femailing of Lucy Rose to knitwear, cropped denim and 24 hour replays of her songs….
But there are options…*reaches for Scotch tape*.
Image courtesy of cosmopolitan.co.uk (Photo by Gus Stewart/Redferns)