Thoughts on Cutting My Hair

I do this thing where I chop off my hair every year and a half or so. It stems from wanting a change. A desire to shake things up...add some spark to my life, as lame as that might sound. I went through a grueling six (SIX) hour long process last Thursday in an attempt to go lighter, blonder, and shorter. The initial result was wonderful, of course also in part due to my hairstylist's ability to curl and mold my locks into that oh-so-carefree wavy look. But yesterday, after holding out on my beautiful blowout for as long as I could, I finally shampooed and felt a twinge of disappointment.

I thought I looked akin to Helga, from the TV show Hey Arnold. As if I had a huge helmet of straw-like hair. A straw bob.

Prior to my salon appointment, I had joked to my boyfriend that I was either going to get a pixie cut or maybe even a buzz cut. But now, looking in the mirror for the first time post-shampoo, I almost felt as if I had lost my femininity.

What is it about long hair that makes a woman feel feminine/womanly/desired? It could range from societal norms to evolution and fertility to celebrity influence. The list could go on and on. For me, a huge factor is social media. Instagram, to be exact. I could spend hours scrolling through pictures of models, bloggers, influencers, fashion insiders, scrutinizing what they're wearing, how they're doing their hair, who they're hanging out with. And I come away from it feeling not inspired but discouraged, downcast, and wondering why I can't look like that and if I could perhaps change my look to that.

But one thing I've been telling myself more and more is to be present and stay in the moment, rather than lamenting the past or pining for the future. Hair extensions aren't an option and my hair definitely cost a pretty penny, so I might as well rock it while I can.

loving the goth, platinum blonde vibe

so summery and so 2017

January Jones off-duty

some famed Japanese model with a gorgeous bob

Mira Duma will always be my style icon. Especially because we're the same size.

cool girl-ish with 90's sunglasses

Are white socks a faux pas?

On Saturday morning, I was late for brunch plans and hastily grabbed a ball of white socks embellished with mint-colored cats on the front. Only after I put on my ankle boots did I realize the socks rose a tad too high and were in full view but, oh well. I was late.

On the drive to brunch, I wondered if I should have donned black instead or forgone socks altogether. Were white socks always a faux pas? Was it just as of now or was there a higher fashion gatekeeper who deemed them forever an anomaly? White socks bring to mind the dad look, which might just be back in style, or bobby socks paired with patent Mary Jane's, a la 50's fashion.

It's clear I'm not the only one with this conundrum. A Google search of "white socks fashion" brings up the frequently asked question: "Can you wear white socks with black shoes?" Answer: "Use white socks only with white athletic shoes, shorts, track pants and other active gear. Select darker socks with dark colored athletic shoes."

But who's keeping track? With 90's fashion trendy again and athleisure on the rise, I say anything goes when it comes to (socks) style. Especially if worn with confidence.