Rhoda
Morgenstern was my favorite TV lady when I was growing up. Not only was she a
straight talking New Yorker, but she really knew how to rock a headscarf. Plus she was Jewish, which, at the time,
made her seem even more exotic. I never quite understood what she saw in Mary
Richards but it gave me hope that one day I too would have such a groovy
friend.
So
I was very pleased when my sister told me that I reminded her of Rhoda. I’ve
taken to wearing headscarves and my sister pointed out the similarity. Then she
elaborated, ‘Well you look kind of like a Chinese baby cus your hair is
standing up on end. But a Chinese Baby-Rhoda.” I told her that I thought I
looked more like an ostrich. Yes, she said. ‘But an Ostrich crossed with Rhoda.
And a Chinese Baby.’
Unlike
Rhoda, I have very little hair. Mine is short in the front, curly in the
middle, and a bit mullet-y in the back. Or as my stylist Jim said, I have a
‘little claw’ in the front, and ‘some Amy Winehouse sh*t going on in the
middle’, and an ‘I’m not sure what’s happening’ in the back. Stylish, it is
not.
So
I depend on the scarves to tame all my crazy hairs. Gel isn’t really doing the
trick, and my temples are still bald, so scarves seem to be the answer. Unlike
Rhoda, who liked to cover her entire scalp with a scarf, I tie mine around my
head like a hair band. The whole head-cover, which looks great on some people,
always reminds me of the ladies at Princess Margaret, and it is a look I vehemently
avoid. And a scarf/band does a
good job squishing the ‘Amy Winehouse middle sh* while covering my bald temples
at the same time.
More
importantly, it gives me confidence.
My hair is no longer freakishly short, and with the scarf it looks like
a proper hair-do. Maybe not quite appropriate for my face, but a hairdo
nonetheless. With my big glasses and colourful accessories, I look just as
brash as Rhoda, though inside I’m still me . So when I meet people for the
first time, I feel like I’m dressed up for Halloween.
Last
week I went out for dinner with a short haired friend. Even though she has three
times more hair than me, hers is still pretty short. Yet it is lovely, and
stylish, and suits her pretty face. Our waitress also had short hair. With her
high cheekbones, and olive skin, she would have been a fool not to keep it
cropped.
I
was wearing a blue scarf which was
knotted at the back of my neck,
the ends hanging down just below the collar of my blouse. At the end of the
night the waitress told me that she really loved what I was doing with my hair.
It’s been so long that I’ve had a hair compliment that I automatically assumed
she was talking to my friend. It took a moment to realize that it was for me,
and I slowly came round in the way that you would if you’d been on a lunch
break for the last ten months. I think my mouth was hanging open, and I may
have said ‘Huh?
‘Your
scarf is great,’ she said, ‘I feel inspired to do the same with my own hair’. I
channelled my inner Baby Rhoda, and mustered up a confident ‘thank-you’. As though I was a brash New Yorker living in an funky Minneapolis attic, and dressing windows for a living. As though I was a baby fashion icon, as though I get compliments all the time.
