![]() And as he went along, he kept mentioning Winona Ryder. I presented it to my stylist, a tall, lanky Brit with a mop of thick black hair, before being dispatched to the shampoo station. ![]() For a week, I had kept it pressed pristine and flat inside my Trapper Keeper. Finally, we were going to put our theory to the test-new fabulous haircut, new fabulous life. My mother and I vibrated with excitement as we entered the salon. Their slogan at the time was "If you don't look good, we don't look good." I was counting on looking good. The bob obviously had to be obtained where it was created-at Vidal Sassoon. I could see in my mother's eyes that she, too, thought this bob could save me.ĭespite our fierce loyalty to our usual salon, we would no sooner go there for a graduated bob than we would go to a podiatrist for neurosurgery. Before homeroom each day, I willed the hands on the clock to move forward because I had no one to talk to. I was 12, deeply awkward, and not particularly popular. She concurred that I must indeed have the bob, and soon. ![]() Looking back, I think it was the girl's sharp cheekbones and full lips that I actually wanted, but in the moment, all that seemed attainable if the hair could just be had. ![]() It featured a beautiful young woman with a chin-length graduated bob, and I knew with sheer adolescent clarity that I had to have that haircut. It was that same year that I tore an ad for Vidal Sassoon hair spray out of a magazine. ![]()
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