My Hair Smells Like High School
I was at Penney's the other day, in the salon, buying hair product. Because that's how I roll. Anyway, I needed some hairspray and found some stuff that was on sale--two for one--and bought it, along with all the other glazes and mousses and goops and other stuff I use in order to be able to leave the house in the morning.
I opened the hairspray the other day and started spraying. I hadn't ever really looked at the label. The can was white and professed not to contain CFCs but, other than that, I didn't pay any attention to it. But when that sticky rain came out of the nozzle, I could smell it.
The smell of high school.
Sebastian Hair Shaper.
I used that stuff daily for years. The only times I would vary usage to another brand was if I needed really hard hold, for which I'd switch to Paul Mitchell's Freeze Spray. I had cans of Shaper in my locker, my gym locker, the car, my house, my purse. Clouds of it followed me around the school, like I was the Pig Pen of hair spray. The tall, white, pristine can marked me as a young woman of taste and discernment with money to burn and good looking hair.
I think I even used the stuff in college for a bit, before big hair and the hairspray that made it became passe. My mother would send me cans in care packages. My father, had he known how much we spent on that hair spray over the years, would have died a lot sooner than he did. We could have fed small African countries with the money I put into my hair back then. The perms, the color, the product--and for what?
Really, really big hair.
I smell the scent of that hair spray and I am standing in the senior locker bay, right in front of Mr. Covetta's chemistry class, waiting for Jason to walk by so we could walk to Stats together. I smell it and I'm driving around on a Friday night with Lori and Tina with the windows open and "Let's Talk About Sex" blaring on the radio. I smell it and I'm playing pool at Diane's house at midnight over Christmas break.
I smell that hair spray and I'm eighteen again.
Thank God I dress better now.
I opened the hairspray the other day and started spraying. I hadn't ever really looked at the label. The can was white and professed not to contain CFCs but, other than that, I didn't pay any attention to it. But when that sticky rain came out of the nozzle, I could smell it.
The smell of high school.
Sebastian Hair Shaper.
I used that stuff daily for years. The only times I would vary usage to another brand was if I needed really hard hold, for which I'd switch to Paul Mitchell's Freeze Spray. I had cans of Shaper in my locker, my gym locker, the car, my house, my purse. Clouds of it followed me around the school, like I was the Pig Pen of hair spray. The tall, white, pristine can marked me as a young woman of taste and discernment with money to burn and good looking hair.
I think I even used the stuff in college for a bit, before big hair and the hairspray that made it became passe. My mother would send me cans in care packages. My father, had he known how much we spent on that hair spray over the years, would have died a lot sooner than he did. We could have fed small African countries with the money I put into my hair back then. The perms, the color, the product--and for what?
Really, really big hair.
I smell the scent of that hair spray and I am standing in the senior locker bay, right in front of Mr. Covetta's chemistry class, waiting for Jason to walk by so we could walk to Stats together. I smell it and I'm driving around on a Friday night with Lori and Tina with the windows open and "Let's Talk About Sex" blaring on the radio. I smell it and I'm playing pool at Diane's house at midnight over Christmas break.
I smell that hair spray and I'm eighteen again.
Thank God I dress better now.
posted by Miss Head at
5:18 AM
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