New Job, New Relationship, New Home: How My New Bob Was The Missing Puzzle Piece
The first time I got a bob I was seven years old. I’d never been so excited to go to school on a Monday morning. At the time, somewhere around 2004, the very coolest thing you could be was a tomboy. Unlike the other girls, the tomboy liked football, wore a cap with skulls on it, cropped khaki combat pants, maybe fingerless gloves, and had a penchant for hacking at her own hair. She didn’t care what anyone thought – or at least, pretended not to.
In the late 16th century, the term ‘tomboy’ was defined as ‘a wild romping girl’, and I think it’s safe to say that every woman has an inner wild, romping spirit. Sometimes an outer one, too. Aged seven, I decided that the best way to channel mine was by getting a bob. And yes, I did style it with a cap and my best FatFace ensemble. I felt cool as hell. And though I didn’t really register it at the time, the new haircut marked more than just a new look.
FIND OUT MORE ON ELLE COLLECTIVE
The bob was a full stop to my life as an only child. My little sister had just been born. I was ready to take my older sibling duties very seriously. Plus, we had moved house for the space. Dramatic hair transformations often find a way of marking major life changes. Usually it’s a deliberately-timed choice, and in some cultures, cutting away dead ends is a spiritual symbol for letting go of the past – and of any negativity that might be lingering around.
Given my aforementioned appreciation for khaki combat pants, it may not come as a surprise that I came out in 2018. I had my first queer relationship and soon chopped off my hair once again. Then came the bleach. Discovering my sexuality brought with it a desire to discard my old self. My straight self. Suddenly, she felt like a lie. My dark, hip-length style felt like a cloak that I’d been hiding under, despite not really knowing the person I was hiding. Then I met someone, and it clicked.
What came with that was Dr. Martens, oversized t-shirts, bomber jackets and a patchy, DIY, yellow-blonde bob that I liked to wear slicked back with wet-look gel. Before I came out, I’d barely leave the house without a full face of make-up, yet now, it comes naturally to embrace my natural skin. It’s a freeing moment that many queer people experience; a rejection of patriarchal stereotypes, a headfirst dive into comfort and experimentation.
That said, sometimes changing your aesthetic when you come out can feel like something you should do, rather than something that you want to do. By no means am I speaking for all. Changing up your look should be playful, fun and ultimately, feel like you. You should never feel pressured to do it. Before I bleached my hair, I was told by another queer person that hair experimentation was a 'rite of passage'. On the surface, a harmless statement. Yet what I heard was that if I didn’t fuck around with my hair and do something drastic, then I would be less entitled to my queer identity than them. Pair that with common terms like ‘baby gay’ or ‘baby dyke’ and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a full identity crisis.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: queerness does not come in one form. And though the bleach and the copious amounts of hair gel marked a huge moment in my life, it should never have been fodder for a feeling of having something to prove.
Six years and several hair transformations later, this week, I returned once again to my old friend, the bob. Since coming out, my hair has been long, short, yellow, copper, fire engine red, black, and highlighted. Both me and my hair need a break. Cutting out my bleach-ridden, fried ends comes at a time of great change once more. In the past month, I’ve left my full time job, I’ve moved house, I’ve made the jump into freelance life, and I’ve just entered a new relationship, too.
The bob is the punctuation to a huge new chapter of my life. 'We’re basically therapists,' says Janet Barone, a hairstylist at Arkive by Adam Reed, one of the capital’s buzziest salons – where I’m lucky to have got a booking. 'We like to understand what a person is going through, so we know what they need,' she explains. Barone has just landed back from Milan, where she was working on a fashion show celebrating all things hair. Her CV includes several high profile celebrities and even the Met Gala. Something tells me this bob is in safe hands.
Of course, one of the most popular reasons for a major hair change is a break-up. Barone tells me a story about a client of hers who went from hip-length hair to a pixie cut following a break-up, though she could only take the plunge if Barone put a sheet over the mirror. The client was forbidden from seeing the transformation until it was complete. Obviously, she completely loved it and has remained loyal to a pixie cut ever since.
My very wise younger sister often reminds me that we must say goodbye to parts of our life in order to make room for the new. And she’s right. Aesthetic change, hair in particular, gets a bad rep for being superfluous or unimportant. Sure, getting a haircut isn’t a replacement for actual therapy, but sometimes, you’ve got to cut some dead ends for the sake of personal growth.
ELLE Collective is a new community of fashion, beauty and culture lovers. For access to exclusive content, events, inspiring advice from our Editors and industry experts, as well the opportunity to meet designers, thought-leaders and stylists, become a member today HERE.
You Might Also Like
