Hammer Time

Everything old is new again. Like the 1990’s look of body suits, chokers and Levi jeans. But that’s the look I rocked in the 90’s when I was in college. I *may* technically be able to wear that outfit again, but my face is a lot less youthful than I once was. It would be like a paper doll: here’s my 1990’s body with a 2017 face!

I don’t need to be depressed. Sometimes I already look in the mirror and say, “Who’s that haggard…Shit, it’s me.”

But I won’t inject my face with garbage. I earned this face and when I tried Botox once, I felt like I looked weird. So. I’ve embraced my 2017 face which means I need to shun any trends that were around when I was a youth.

I’m also kind of low maintenance. After a bad haircut four months ago that was more 1994 Rachel haircut than the beachy waves I asked for, my colorist said, “I can add some extensions….”

“Have you met me? You know I can’t stand high maintenance activities.”

“You won’t see them. You’ll only feel them,” he pushed.

“THAT’S WORSE. I’d rip it out in under 24 hours. Stephen. Don’t use that word again in my presence. Put it on your card in KANYE CAPS.”

It’s taking some time (like I said, 4 months and counting), but it’s growing out. My old hair stylist, who I returned to like a bad lover, which I didn’t feel badly about because he’d been stuck in an elevator like a new R. Kelly “Trapped In…” opus, which caused my appointment to be pushed back twice, said I’d need another haircut to get my hair back in order. It turns out it is really easy to mess up no-style, white girl, long hair.

Anyway, I can’t do 1990’s style. Until…

I bought Hammer pants. Made famous by MC Hammer in the late 1980’s and 1990’s, he had a fade, crazy glasses and a variety of flashy pants with a drop crotch.

Granted these aren’t full on extreme crotch dropped to the knees, but they are bad enough. At first I was like, “Nope.” And then they felt soft. They weren’t too long like most of my pants. They felt roomy. And then I kept them.

As much as I mock the ridiculous, I hold myself to the fire worst of all when I push the style limits of what’s okay.

So I danced it out. 2 Legit 2 Quit. Hammertime. Plus some Carleton (Fresh Prince of Bel Air) for bad measure.

I wore them to my highlight appointment, feeling a little ridiculous. Stephen (he of the previous extension recommendation at our last appointment) he was like, “Those pants are so chic!”

I was like, “Jesus Christ, Stephen. But thank you.”

We laughed at this video. I once again prayed, like I always do when I see him, that he sticks to the highlight plan because I wasn’t in the mood for a color fade. Or pink streaks. Or any of that funky stuff.

Give me basic white girl hair. That’s all I ask. And he did because he is a pro and slightly afraid of what I’ll do if I’m displeased.

I prefer to use clothing to funk it up. And so I Hammertimed it out of the salon, shaking my freshly restored blonde, at full power.

Way 2 Legit 2 Quit.

kerrylquinn

2 Comments

  1. Hahahaha. Hammer Time! Thanks for reminding me to keep it me; I think I’ll forego that pair of Truman Capote eyeglass frames.

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