Hair

The horror of the male wig

Horrible injuries are commonplace in boxing but none, surely, has been quite so devastating as that sustained by the heavyweight Jarrell Miller. In the moment it took for an uppercut to land, the Brooklyn boxer’s life changed forever. Miller went from professional athlete to, well, "the man who got his wig punched off." I have rewatched Miller’s hairpiece getting punched off countless times, my hand clamped to my mouth. Why didn’t his team throw in the towel? Why didn’t the referee just stop the fight? Why didn’t Miller, his wig flipped up at 90 degrees like a kitchen trashcan lid, simply step out of the ring, exit the arena and start a new life several thousand miles away under an adopted identity?

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The politics of long hair

What is the literal cut-off point for women having very long hair (and by “long” I mean where it almost goes into the toilet bowl)? Thirty? Forty? Fifty? Try 65 – the age I turned this year. If this strikes you as grossly inappropriate, in theory I’m with you. The unspoken rule is that the older you get, the shorter your hair should be. Nobody within ten or even 20 years of me has hair as long as mine. What can I say? As with wearing inappropriately colored nail polish, it is just another small act of defiance women d’un certain age can employ to remind this cruel world that we do actually still exist. My hair has been this length for so long it has become a part of my identity: how I see myself in the universe. I am my hair and thus find it hard to imagine life without it.

Bristling with meaning: the language of hair in 19th-century America

From our UK edition

In Whiskerology, Sarah Gold McBride combs through a bristling, tangled mess of data, facts and theories about gender, race, national identity and their relationship to – yep, you guessed – hair. Do not buy this book if you are looking for a fun read about vintage updos, goatees and ponytails; Ye Olde Horrible Haircuts it is not. It’s a book about hair as a kind of cultural text; readable, manipulable, highly permable and ideologically curled. One does not, it turns out, simply go and get a haircut: one enters a vast semiotic salon, more Saussure than Sassoon, where you’re lucky to get out without a scalping. McBride is a 21st-century American scholar writing about 19th-century American hair, but the manner is classic mid-20th-century French plait.

Who’s still laughing at Donald Trump’s hair?

From our UK edition

At last month’s Bafta ceremony, David Tennant attempted to make a joke about the state of Donald Trump’s hair, but it barely raised a chuckle. Not surprising, perhaps, when you consider the dramatic vibe-shift sweeping the western world. In a desperate attempt to stay relevant many on the progressive left are suddenly choosing to distance themselves from the luxury beliefs they once held as sacrosanct. But this has led to confusion, especially when it comes to comedy. For progressives, laughing at the right jokes became an indicator of moral virtue and political allegiance, so it was highly amusing to see all those nervous thesps wondering which segments of the ceremony they should be finding funny.

Kamala Harris shares life-changing hair secrets

Although he has been a harsh critic in the past, Cockburn would like to thank fashion icon and hair-game legend Kamala Harris for teaching him the key to achieving the perfect silk press. While Cockburn must admit he wasn’t familiar with the hairstyling technique, he doesn’t know how he lived without it for so long. To quote People magazine, it had him screaming “queen.”    The vice president shared her beauty secrets on an episode of Keke Palmer’s podcast Baby, This Is Keke Palmer on Tuesday. The two women spent most of the interview tackling America’s maternal healthcare crisis before turning to fun girl-talk which included Harris’s hair care routine.

kamala harris keke palmer

In defence of redheads

From our UK edition

I doubt many people reading this have much sympathy for Prince Harry, but spare a thought for those who have become the collateral damage in all the Harry hate: his fellow redheads. Our precarious fortunes seem to be pegged to the popularity of the most famous male member of our kind. When Harry was loved, people would tell me that he was the ‘only ginger they fancied’, but now that he’s in the doldrums, his hair colour is spat out with scorn. It’s often the first thing people attack about him. Nasty comments about red hair are nothing new. But since the whole ‘Ginge and Whinge’ phenomenon, I’ve heard more negative comments about red hair, in the media and just in ordinary conversation, than I ever have previously.

Boris gives parting honor to hairdresser

The most surprising part about Boris Johnson's honors list, which allows him to approve lifetime peerages and other awards for his allies, is that he has included his hairdresser. That's right, the famous blonde mop isn’t just something that he wakes up with, but rather an intentional look crafted by House of Commons hairdresser Kelly Jo Dodge, who is set to get a Member of the Order of the British Empire (MBE) from the former UK prime minister. Johnson is standing down as a Member of Parliament after receiving a report into "Partygate" scandal. The honors announcement, needless to say, has turned heads. It was approved by British prime minister Rishi Sunak on Friday, along with almost forty honors and seven peerages.

boris johnson

Bring back sideburns!

From our UK edition

Our collective Man Card is on the verge of being rescinded. The number of lonely, single men is rising – and testosterone levels are falling. The causes of our macho decline are myriad, but a quick fix is at hand: it’s time to bring back sideburns. It seems these days that the only facial hair options most men consider are beard or clean-shaven. Gone is the cheeky pencil-thin moustache sported so dashingly by Errol Flynn and the devil-may-care ’burns rocked by Harrison Ford’s Han Solo. The Lionel Richies and Tom Sellecks of the world still play their part in the strong whisker game, but that’s probably owed to the same reason members of ZZ Top could never shave.

My hairdresser cured my depression

From our UK edition

I walked to the salon in fiery sunshine. Gorgeous, zaftig Elody was wearing a short satin dressing gown of silver and gold. She was alone. ‘Ça va?’ she said, helping me into the gown. ‘Black dog,’ I said. ‘What is black dog?’ she said. ‘Cafard,’ I said. ‘A black ox trod on my foot.’ I sat in the chair, removed my glasses and stared in the mirror. The straps of my black face mask made my ears stick out. And strewth, the hair. ‘Two owls and a hen, four larks and a wren,’ I said. Elody speaks no English and my French is rudimentary. ‘What?’ she said. I had a stab at translating the limerick into French. She stared at me via the mirror with rapt, sceptical attention.

How to cut your hair at home: top tips from Hugh Grant’s barber

From our UK edition

“I don’t like dropping names,” says Haks Oscar, when I ask him about his celebrity clients, “but we’ve got several – from Hugh Grant to Jose Mourinho.” The Chelsea based barber has been cutting hair for 33 years, and the tradition has been in his family for five generations. “We are, what I call, the old school real barbers,” says Haks, who’s transported by private jet to attend to the tresses of Saudi royalty, “whenever they require.” His King’s Road barbershop in Chelsea has even had princely posteriors in its seats. “We have members of royalty from various countries that, as a family, come over on their private jet, just for their haircuts, then go back.” Crikey.