On a day as hot as hell last week, the only thing I had left to take off without causing offence was my fringe. So I went into a barber and asked him to do me this simple favour, and he said, “Not really – barbers are for men,” and I said that was a risk I was prepared to take, and he said, “Men’s hair and women’s hair are completely different,” and I said, “That cannot be true – it doesn’t make biological sense,” and he said, “It is true,” and I said it was the least true thing I had ever heard and he said, “Fine,” and it took about a tenth as long as my regular haircut and cost about 17 times less.
I’ve had a fringe this short before, for reasons of fashion, and I remember that era well because every time I saw my late mother, she started whistling ballads from the medieval times. Her repertoire was amazing. They say you’ll miss them when they’re gone, and I do not miss this.
