In December, we asked people to share personal stories of their experience in 2020. Here’s what they had to say:
By Caron Schwartz
I’ve inherited some pretty good genes. Like my dad, I have barely a wrinkle and nails my sisters envy. And some less-desirable traits: I have my mother’s hair. Thin, fine,and not much of it. I’ve tried styles ranging from hippie long to Dorothy Hamill wedge, from bob to Bob Ross perm. Each required a lot of product and resulted in a lot of bad hair days.
And now, like her, I’m losing what little I have as errant hair sprouts in places I dare not mention.
When I first arrived in Florida my hair suddenly curled. It was July, and I guess going from the Colorado sauna to the Florida steam room was an existential shock. For months I let my frizz flag fly and enjoyed my hair’s new talent. Alas, before long it relaxed, and I roamed between hairdressers until someone razored my meager mane into a Jamie Lee Curtis pixie. Hallelujah!
And then, coronavirus.
Pixies don’t require daily maintenance, but they need frequent shearing. As COVID-generated, no-salon weeks went by, my hair deteriorated. “Don’t worry about it,” my reflection in the mirror said. “Where ya goin’ anyway?”
Desperate times call for desperate measures. I dug out the clippers (previously used to clean up the exes, who’ve always had nicer locks than me). What’s the worst that can happen, I thought. It will grow back. Besides, on Zoom everybody looks a little disheveled.
My stomach quivered as the first few clumps hit the floor. But as more and more strands fell away I had an epiphany: This is the look I’ve been searching for! So simple, so tidy!
It didn’t take long for me to trade in the bulky, wired, 20-year-old clippers for a lightweight rechargeable version. Even with COVID restrictions lifted, I may never go to a salon again. I love the way the stubble feels. I love how the tiny bristles sparkle. I even love the buzzing on my head.
I know this love affair won’t last forever. Like my 88-year-old mother, I’ll probably succumb to a wig when there’s more skin than hair on my head. But I have to say thank you, 2020, for helping me discover my style.