Doing it the Wright Way
Every year, always in early November, about ten days before my birthday, I get the urge to reinvent myself. In that, I am as reliable as the ever forward creeping years. My motivation has varied; I’ve wanted to look older, younger, artier, punkier, funkier, sexier, more sophisticated, less suburban, more chic, during the various stages of my life. Invariably, this culminates in a visit to the hairdresser, often with quite catastrophic results. I know this, and yet….every year I take a new, usually ill advised, whimsical risk on the very spur of the November moment. There was that year, quite some time ago now, when I had my hair cut Jean Seberg short in the belief that it would make me look more gamine, more Parisian ingénue. I hadn’t bargained with my nose which is not exactly of the cute upturned button variety, the resulting look was rather closer to that of a Roman senator with some convict nuances thrown in.