My son’s hair is getting out of control. It’s my fault, really – I should never have let him near my Nirvana CDs. How was I to know that he’d be into it and end up wanting to look like Kurt Cobain?
That, in itself, wouldn’t be a problem. It’s not like it’s a hard look to achieve and maintain. It’s just that Nathan’s attempt at grunge chic is gradually turning into a highly unkempt birds nest that’s somehow greasy and dry at the same time. That, too, wouldn’t bother me that much (I’ve had worse in my time) if it wasn’t for the fact that his school isn’t that pleased about it.
Is there a hairdresser in Melbourne who’s got what it takes to deal with a 15 year-old who’s just discovered anti-fashion? Ideally, they’d also cater to a proud mum who wants to support her kid’s first ever expression of interest in developing a sense of style, even if it does involve rehashing the 90s.
Basically, I want someone to give him a take on the haircut he has in mind that looks exceptionally cool and uncontrived, while still passing as acceptable for a scholarship student at a posh private school. It amuses me that this now strikes me as something achievable – if you’d asked me at the time I bought these CDs, I’d have found the notion ridiculous.
I mean, I don’t know how much luck I’ll have in getting Nathan interested in having a regular hair maintenance routine, and I’ll grant that it’s kind of at odds with the whole grunge thing. I don’t think I’m going to be pushing my favourite Aveda hair products on him. I’ll probably just leave them lying around and watch him partake before heading out on a date, when he thinks I won’t notice.
He probably won’t be all that chuffed about me booking him in at a slick CBD hair salon, come to think of it. It’s a move that’s almost definitely going to establish me as an uncool force in his world. But hey, someone’s got to fill that role. Maybe it’ll speed up the process of him realising that ripping off a rock star’s look isn’t the same as having a sense of style.