Bow Tie o’ the Day and I present one of the hairdo concoctions my current hairs are capable of becoming. I call it “The Reverse Ponytail With Wings.”
I’m sure y’all think living my clashion way o’ life is an easy way to live, but I have limits to my clash and style. I try not to offend anyone with my attire or be disrespectful of where I am. Interesting style is who I am. Enjoy. Period. I feel a responsibility to my neckware/style to be snazzy, dapper, eye-catching, etc., not rude or obnoxious. I especially do not strive for my style to be such that people question my sanity to the point they think they should call the cops. This morning at the Dick’s Market, I saw a reflection of myself in the glass doors to the ice cream. I felt like I should call the cops on myself. “Haul me away, officer! Take me to the loony bin! I know not what I do!”
Here’s the scoop. After I took this post photo, I turned my hat around and then sat down and made a grocery list. I then donned my wintry cape, and then I drove through the snow to the store. I’m shopping and crossing items off my list. I’m saying a howdy to familiar faces. All is well.
I always go to the ice cream aisle last, so I can get my cold tubs home before the ice cream melts. So… I’m approaching the ice cream doors– which I call The Pearly Gates– and suddenly, there is my reflection. There I stand: a 54-year-old woman in a snowflake cape, wearing an un-matchy bow tie, which is all wonderfully me. But then I see I have basically the same hair as in this photo. I had forgotten to brush my hair back into some sorta order before I left the house. Yes, my hat was turned the right way at least, but the hairy wings over my ears were still being wings. And somehow the reverse ponytail had wrapped itself around the hat as I had turned it around.
Unfortunately, I did not take a photo of my accidental-style self in Dick’s. I wanted to snap one cuz I knew it would be entertaining. But there was more OOPS! and DOH! I had left my phone at home, which has happened only three times in twenty years.
But do you know what really kills me? When I first went into the store, I stopped at the pharmacy and chatted with my pharmacist about all kinds of topics. We are Dick’s Market friends. We conversed for at least ten minutes, and she said absolutely nothing about my hairs. Oh, she complimented Bow Tie and my cape, as well she should have. But how could she not know that I didn’t mean to invent this hairs/hat display? That’s scary. Clearly, she and everyone else I knew at Dick’s took it in stride, like they almost expected me to walk in looking like my head should be in a freak show.