Hair
It was the sixties – 1963 – and I started growing my hair.
There were no gels back then. If you wanted to style it you used greasy brylcreem. I didn’t like the grease.
In the boy’s toilets there were big mirrors and lots of vying for position as boys combed their hair into intricate quiffs and duck-tails.
The Beatles had brought in their combed forward mop-tops. The Stones had taken it further with longer, shaggier hair. My heroes were Phil May of the Pretty Things and Ray Davies of the Kinks. Their hair was shoulder length. I liked that.
I grew my hair. I went for an individual look. I combed in back at the sides and manufactured a long fringe that swept round at the front. It had a kink at the front and took a bit of getting right. I liked it.
My mate Hat had the longest hair. He could pull his quiff down to touch his chin. I was envious.
I started growing facial hair when I was thirteen and soon took to wearing big thick sideburns. I had the best side-burns in school.
My Physics teacher thought I was so hairy I looked like an animal. He started calling me squirrel.
The school had a policy on hair for boys. Hair should not touch your collar, it should not touch your ears and sideburns should not be below the earlobes. I felt this was absurd and was openly rebellious. Hair to me was important; it was part of my identity, sex appeal and stance regarding authority and the establishment – which I did not respect. The Deputy Head saw it as a personal challenge. We were at loggerheads.
The school, and particularly Miss McLoughlan, disliked my hair. Every holiday, from the age of fourteen on, I would grow a beard. Every time I went back to school they would send me home.
I was told to go home and not come back until I’d shaved my beard off.
After three weeks the twagman visited to ask why I had not been to school. I told him I had been told not to go back to school until I’d shaved my beard off and I hadn’t shaved it off yet.
On another occasion I was sent home to shave it off. I shaved off a half inch line down my chin and went back. The Deputy Head caught me again and was furious. Why hadn’t I done as I had been instructed? I told her I had. I had shaved my beard off. These were sideburns and moustache. She did not see the funny side of it.
I don’t know how many days I missed through being sent home for hair, beard, sideburns or uniform infringements, but it was a lot. I delighted in it and enjoyed winding them up. I was defiant.
Into the sixth form it eased up a little but they deemed my rebellious attitude was such that I was not made a prefect. I was the only sixth former who was not a prefect. That was a badge of honour.
By the time I left I had shoulder length hair and a full beard. I think they’d given up on me.
Hair was a symbol of my antiestablishment stance. I did not agree with the direction our society was heading down. I did not see the acquisition of wealth and power as being the aim of life. I did not want to be part of that rat-race. I wanted a more meaningful and creative existence. I did not believe that money made you happy. I did not agree with war, nationalism or the destruction of the planet that seemed to go with the whole capitalist dream. I was reading Kerouac and Ginsberg. I was listening to Roy Harper and Captain Beefheart. I thought I’d discovered a better philosophy.
It served me well.
I’ve had an interesting, creative life without too much compromise.
I went on to become a Headteacher!
Loved the long hair, wish more men would wear their hair long.
Yeah. I love it too. Not sure that it looks as good on such old buggers as me. It looks a bit pretentious. It’s sad getting old!
Thinking back I don’t think I was that bothered about fashion, though seem to remember I was the first in school to have brothel creepers and later the first to wear straights when all my mates were still in 28″ flares. How uncool did these guys look!
Besides it changed at an ever increasing rate by the time I entered fashion consciousness when Glam Rock just started, whereas before that it hadn’t changed a bit between 1967-71.
But I never would have been seen dead in a Tank Top. These were for blokes who were a bit light on their loafers, as far as I was concerned.
I think looking back on it, did you ever conclude that perhaps the “don’t need money” ethos was somewhat juvenile and premature?
I had very much the same thought at some point in latent youth, but concluded it really wouldn’t be too good an idea for any length of time. Without any cash your life is stuck in aspic and pretty drab.
I also found out very quickly that girls aren’t remotely interested in completely skint boyfriends.
I looked at these older guys I’d known who were now hitting the mid to late 20’s mark and had zilch to show for themselves, bum job after bum job. Didn’t look too cool a life plan to me.
When Roy Harper (bad hair!) got hit for 6 and lost his farm, he didn’t stop talking about it for the next 10 years.
Ginsberg (bad hair!) wasn’t quite the financial loose canon that perhaps folk lore indicates as his letters correspondence with William S. Burroughs will attest – see The Letters Of WSB 1945-1959.
Don Van Vliet (good hair) was a complete bread-head. Whilst his fellow band members didn’t have enough to eat, the good Captain was down at the tailor’s getting yet another new bespoke!
I (good hair) had a spell in life without money – it was absolute misery! And the bills keept coming.
It’s what you do with money that can make you happy.
Yeah I (Great hair) did rapidly find that one needed a modicum of money. The idea that you could get by without was soon disproved. But I still think that the idea of spending your life chasing wealth was pointless, no fun and a waste of life. I think I got the balance about right. You have to earn, preferably doing something you enjoy doing, and you have to have a life of fun, friendship, creativity, adventure and love. It’s about balance.
It’s bloody awful getting old, the mind stays young but the body – least said. No hair looks great long on men no matter what age. Had an Ocado chap here some weeks back I noticed his hair tied back and asked if he minded me asking how long it was with that he undid it and swung his head his hair was fantastic lovely shine in it, he was delighted I mentioned his hair – nice looking fellow too and he rode like you.
I’ve a friend who’s only got a 2″ width of growth bit coming out the back of his head – the rest is as bald as a coot. It looks ludicrous.
Yeah pattern balding is a strange thing. Its part of male puberty – goes on to seventy!
Perhaps he should shave it off.
It can do. I keep mine longish.
Or paint it red and yellow!
“Paint it, black, you devil” !
Or paint the scalp yellow and red to take the attention away!
Reblogged this on Opher's World and commented:
Hair has an importance beyond fashion.
There was a time when I really wanted to shave my head but decided not to.
I once shaved off half my beard (just on one side of my face). It was really long too. I shaved half my moustache too – except the other way round. I had one side of my face with a long beard and no moustache and the other half with a shaven face and half a moustache. Looked good.