Oxford life. Thirtysomething challenges. Music leanings. Anything really.

Friday, February 04, 2005

Know when to give it up

I walked out of a shop today to be greeted by a wondeful sight. 28 years ago, the world was rocked by punk, and Sid Vicious had one of the best images. Thousands, nay millions, mimicked his look in an act of solidarity. Wiry black hair, leather jacket, it was magic.

I was following the last punk in town. He had the swagger. He had the drainpipes, white socks and Doctor Marten's.

Buller Belt. Check.

Leather jacket. Check.

Cigarette held in toward the palm. Check.

And wiry hair, spiked outwards in a messy fashion. Um, not check.

Yes, the hair he had was spiked. But the crown of his head was open to the air. The old guy was bald. When he looks in the mirror, what neurons are being blocked that allow this poor fella to believe that by somehow maintaining the image with the rest of his body, we won't see this shiny beacon where hair should be?

Let it lie.

And while we're at it - if you're balding and have a pony tail, let it lie.

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