There will be boring.
Since leaving Chicago, one of the things I've missed—along with a decent brunch—is the talent of my hair stylist, Mitch, who works at Michael & Michael. He's great, he doesn't charge an arm and a leg, and he just knows how to read my style. Plus, he moved into an apartment across the street from me right before I left, and we were beginning to be buddies.
I have now gone to two of the fancy, written-up-in-Allure salons here, and, well, I think I may become one of those annoying people who winds up only getting haircuts when in New York. In October, I had a fantastic trim from Mordechai Alvow at Pashah. It looked great the day of the cut, and it grew out beautifully. Today, though, I realized that I was getting a bit mullety, so I made an appointment at Fancy Salon Place.
As you can see, it's not a bad cut per se. It's just not the most astounding one, you know? I think that when you spend three digits on a haircut—something I do not enjoy doing, and have never done before—it should make you feel like you have shampoo-commercial hair.
I have now gone to two of the fancy, written-up-in-Allure salons here, and, well, I think I may become one of those annoying people who winds up only getting haircuts when in New York. In October, I had a fantastic trim from Mordechai Alvow at Pashah. It looked great the day of the cut, and it grew out beautifully. Today, though, I realized that I was getting a bit mullety, so I made an appointment at Fancy Salon Place.
As you can see, it's not a bad cut per se. It's just not the most astounding one, you know? I think that when you spend three digits on a haircut—something I do not enjoy doing, and have never done before—it should make you feel like you have shampoo-commercial hair.
Labels: humiliating photographs, vanity, weird obsession with finding perfect haircut
Last night, I was at the U.S. premiere of the Joy Division documentary. This sounds like a big deal, until you realize that the film was completed in 2006—or so says IMDB—and so it's not like I'm ahead of the game or anything. Still, it was fun to be in a tiny room with a gaggle of geeks in dark clothing.
The film is great, and footage of the band inevitably reminds me of why I like a band that split up when I was still spitting up in my mother's arms. But I think that's part of the reason there's still a hunger for Joy Division; their music still feels innovative and fresh and relevant nearly 30 years after it was released. Could have done without some of the purple-prose quotes from fans and the New Order-ers, but all in all, it's a good documentary.
After the film, one of the producers stuck around for a Q&A session. One woman asked why the film featured Annick Honore, but not Deborah Curtis. (Exactly the question on my mind.) To paraphrase, the producer said that they chose to film only Annick so the viewer wouldn't be conflicted about how they viewed Ian.
"Bullshit," Sabrina later said. "They just couldn't get Deborah to do it."
I think she's right, and on a larger level, shouldn't a documentary present facts, not merely the more easily digestible parts of someone's life?
The film is great, and footage of the band inevitably reminds me of why I like a band that split up when I was still spitting up in my mother's arms. But I think that's part of the reason there's still a hunger for Joy Division; their music still feels innovative and fresh and relevant nearly 30 years after it was released. Could have done without some of the purple-prose quotes from fans and the New Order-ers, but all in all, it's a good documentary.
After the film, one of the producers stuck around for a Q&A session. One woman asked why the film featured Annick Honore, but not Deborah Curtis. (Exactly the question on my mind.) To paraphrase, the producer said that they chose to film only Annick so the viewer wouldn't be conflicted about how they viewed Ian.
"Bullshit," Sabrina later said. "They just couldn't get Deborah to do it."
I think she's right, and on a larger level, shouldn't a documentary present facts, not merely the more easily digestible parts of someone's life?
Labels: joy division, sabs
Once again, I didn't make any resolutions this year. I halfheartedly toyed with the idea of doing so before 2007 expired, but then I tried to do the actual things in question (exercise, write better) and gave up in an unremarkable philosophical shrug.
Here are the excuses I continually make so I won't have to do these things:
exercise
1. I am not in completely horrible shape. In fact, people who see me think I am in great shape simply because I am thin. (Little do they know that I get winded after running a block or two.) Body still looks good, therefore must be healthy.
2. I eat well, therefore my cholesterol and such stuff must be fine, just fine!
3. Don't smoke, etc. Will live forever!
4. Gyms are corny and expensive. I would enroll in the Buffy Summers Ass-Kicking Academy if such a thing existed, but it doesn't.
write better
1. Would actually have to write something of consequence, which would siphon valuable house-cleaning and cat-grooming time.
2. Have little to talk about outside of house-cleaning and cat-grooming time.
3. Cannot write more than a paragraph without realizing that I am a hack, etc.
4. Have started secret cat blog for Milo. (I think it's safe to say that Hemingway, despite his love of polydactyl cats, would never have written in the first-feline voice.)
