Old Standards

What is old supposed to look like? At one time I thought I knew but, as you discover later, at 17 you know less than you think. I simultaneously laugh and shudder when someone starts out with, “at your age you should...” From the time I turned 35, the music industry was telling me I was too old to rock. A few weeks ago an online opinion article, probably written by some teenage girl, snidely demanded that no one over the age of 30 should be seen in the latest fashions... mini skirts, tie-dye tees and bathing suits... as if anyone under that age was around the first time those fashions were flaunted back in the 60s and 70s. I still wear the originals. One click away was another story about how Elton John, Madonna and Mick Jagger, along with all the others who paved the road to heart pounding, rocking music should get off the stage and retire.

Don't get me wrong – youth is great. But I don't want those little guttersnipes telling me what to wear, how to live or setting limits based on what they perceive old should be doing. True, at one point in all our lives we thought 30 was ancient and most of us never planned to live that long. But now that we’ve survived, most of the Boomer generation knows no limits.

“Have you ever thought about cutting your hair short... like, up to your chin to highlight your cheekbones? Older women look younger with that cut,” an acquaintance offered.

“I like my hair long…” the hair on my neck bristled.

“But you'd look younger...” she slurred as her fingers went for my locks.

“No, I'd look like an older woman with shorter hair,” I snorted, ignoring her as I grabbed another piece of sushi and shot of sake while the younger set bounced somewhat rhythm-less to a rap beat.

“Women your age shouldn't have that color blonde. You need to lowlight your hair. Aging women need to look softer...” she said as her legs gave out and she sat down on the floor.

“Wait...” I curtly cut her off, “you’re saying I should lowlight a color that's not found in nature to try to make it appear more natural? Obviously, I'm not trying to convince anyone I'm a real blonde. I like to wake up to light-sucking, shockingly bright hair... it’s like an instant shot of incorporated caffeine. ‘Soft’ is a description I use for people not right in the head and has nothing to do with the way I want my persona to project.”

It doesn't matter what hairstyle, color or fashion you sport if you're too drunk to stand, or speak without spitting. It's all in the carriage. If you carry yourself well, people will follow the statement you create. In the 80s of New York's East Village culture, design spies would scope out the street wear of the neighborhood locals because they were so unique. You'd see a modified version of it in the following season's lineup.

Not that bleached platinum is anything unique or different. My idea of fashion is more theatrical since the world is my stage and my modus operandi involves creating my own reality. If chin length layered hair chunked out in wide, tri-color bands of red, gold and brown makes you feel younger – then you are. The trick is to be confident and walk like you mean it. Yeah, that's right, I intentionally put this chartreuse bolero with hot pink pants, and you bet... my hair color matches the shoes and the outfit. Wanna dance?

There is no age or fashion appropriate in my world... as long as the golden rule is adhered to (Do unto others…). Which of course, brings up the family thing. For some reason, it sent my then 10-year old daughter crying hysterically, burying herself into her bed covers, when I came home with strands of hot pink and electric blue tresses in the mid-80s.

“But you have to meet my teacher!” she sobbed. It was the one time I reversed a decision about appearance.

Perhaps brilliant color triggers responses from the time when little old ladies emerged from salons with blue hair... which they still do. It's like a bright warning light to MOVE OVER when you glimpse their fuzzy halo shining from behind the wheel of a 40-weight car veering ominously in the left lane with the directionals blinking continually – keeping the driver in the car behind guessing which way the devil with the blue hair is really going.

My mother turns 80 this week– and she stills drives but doesn't have the traditional bluehead of the Florida elderly. Having survived my rebellious teen years, wading through the experimental styles of the flower child love era of the 60s, she's wizened and always more amused than offended with any hair color, threads or lifestyle choice. As my grandmother would say, “What’s important is that you're true to yourself, kind to others and loyal to your family... but make sure you know how to dance well…”


PS: I'll be in Florida this week dancing quite well at mama Belloise's 80th birthday party.

Almost cut my hair
It happened just the other day
It's gettin kinda long
I could have said it was in my way
But I didn't and I wonder why
I feel like letting my freak flag fly
Cause I feel like I owe it to someone – David Crosby

From the musical Hair:

...I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy
Snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty
Oily, greasy, fleecy
Shining, gleaming, streaming
Flaxen, waxen
Knotted, polka-dotted
Twisted, beaded, braided
Powdered, flowered, and confettied
Bangled, tangled, spangled, and spaghettied!
Oh say can you see
My eyes if you can
Then my hair's too short