palace of winds

I’ve been restless lately, and often that makes me think I may want a new haircut. And usually once I’ve had the thought at all it’s hard to make it go away. Typically I have my hair cut a few times a year, if that; when I notice the length has snuck up (down? out?) on me again, or when the seasons turn. I felt like the last cut I’d had was this spring, and it’s nearly fall, so I called and made an appointment at the Roseville Juut. (I’m both cheap and feeling a little adventurous, and it’ll probably be a cozier atmosphere than the Aveda Institute in Minneapolis.) Of course when I looked in my checkbook register I discovered my cut’d only been June 1. Que sera. Eleven weeks isn’t completely unreasonable.

Anyhow. I’m soliciting suggestions for what I ought to have done. I’m tired of always getting the same stupid long layers put in. I suppose that’s what I get for going in and telling them the same thing every time: that I don’t care as long as I can choose not to put a lot of effort into styling it, and as long as I can still pull it back. I’ve decided to strike that last requirement this time, though I still want to be able to just blow-and-go on weekends. I’m still too lazy to brave a cut that absolutely requires any sort of curling or straightening or whatever.

That said. I’m not having it colored, and I’m not shaving it all off. I want something that’s still young-looking; I’m not ready for those business-woman cuts. I shudder to think of having them. I have no recent pictures handy where I’ve got my hair down (the longest bits are nearly to my armpit and the shortest just above my collarbone), but you can more or less see the shape of my face in the entry below. I still haven’t sussed out what the shape’s called (i.e. round, oval, heart, square, rectangle), which makes most hair-cut-advice websites frustrating.

Anyhow, that’s that. I put my fashion life in your hands, dear readers. Reader? I’m counting on at least one, anyhow. That is my optimistic leap for the day.