Last year fringing was everywhere. Literally. I can’t name one person (apart from myself but I haven’t washed my hair in 4 days so I’m too gross to count as a person) that didn’t own rather a handbag, t-shirt or cowboy boots embellished with that shredded tissue paper-esque design otherwise known as a trend. Unfortunately for me, I misread the memo. When I heard fringing was going to be big, well, I had a fringe cut.
In autobiographies or (if you’re not famous enough to have needed an autobiography) photo albums, people often split their lives into the following key moments: graduating with a useless degree, getting first job completely unrelated to said degree, buying property, marrying, having two children, divorcing, remarrying, repeating a few times before retiring to Switzerland to avoid tax. No one, however, ever mentions the commitment involved with having a fringe. Until now. Because sadly it isn’t all style goals and looking like Zooey Deschanel.
Problem 1: I have curly hair. Perhaps this was my own fault, you see all those Women’s Health articles like ‘Who even are you if you don’t know your hair/skin/body type?’ and I always ignore them because I question my existence enough without Women’s Health adding to the mix, however knowing your hairtype is probs v important before making a decision like this. I have to straighten Jess jnr. (as the block fringe in known) every morning else I look like the dog from Annie. For someone with commitment issues, it’s a big commitment. Problem 2: Earth, wind and fire, luckily not the epic band, will become your worst enemy. When it rains the fringe goes curly, when it’s windy it blows into this irreversible Simon from The Inbetweeners style, when it’s hot it goes frizzy- I cannot win. Maybe when deciding to get a fringe you should also decide if you can afford to take out a mortgage on a property in a location that doesn’t have extreme weather.
Problem 3: Regardless of your intelligence, talents or how en pointe your contour is, when you get a fringe your personality is reduced to ‘the kid with a fringe’ (and who blogs, in my case). You could be the first women to walk on the moon but if you’re with fringe it’s never going to be the first thing on your personality CV, let’s be realistic here.
Problem 4: It has to be cut all. the. time. I used to get it cut every three weeks but now as a first year IB student I’m too busy discussing how to rationalise irrational judgement (#TOKProblems) to voyage up to my hairdresser for a thirty second trim. In the absence of a hairdresser, I started doing it myself which I must warn you is hella addictive. I’ll cut it on a Monday and then by Wednesday I’ve decided it’s just not straight so I’ll cut it again and then on Saturday I’ll cut it again out of nothing other than boredom.
Problem 5: Hair in ma eyezzzz. When my fringe gets too long I have to roller it out to stop it from blinding me – but then I have to deal with looking like Sandy from Grease ft. everyone singing the Sandra Dee reprise every time I walk past.
Problem 6: Do I even suit a fringe? This is a question I ask myself daily, but I realise I look like an extra from Avatar when I pin it back, so it’s probably a good idea to stick with it. Especially because growing it out looks painful- imagine wearing an Alice band all day, you’d get those little achy indents behind your ears. Or you could always clip it back but then you’ve got to get it all central and that’s just too much stress.
Problem 7: You love it too much to give it up. Yes fringy bae, you’re a pain in the bum and more temperamental than a Katy Perry song, but we’re in this together. Plus, I look 0.08% more like Hannah Simone and therefore it’s totally worth it.
Teamales! Do you have a fringe? Are you thinking of getting a fringe? Have you had one and are now laughing at me because the grass is so much greener without one? Comment below for hair chats. Thank you for reading and thanks Carla bab for the post inspiration.