The Bald and the Beautiful

I have a theory. This usually precedes cockamamie ideas from your friends or drunk people that make no sense. But I have a theory--a real theory. Today, I noticed a coworker, not a close coworker, but someone I see and don't know his name, and he has the dumbest hair cut. In the late nineties, it may have been cool, but I'm not sure it belongs in the 21st century, especially since we are on the second decade already. My question is: why would someone keep a stupid haircut for so long?

This is where my theory comes into play. I have noticed this trend in others, mostly men, who cling to a certain era of fashion, whether it be in clothing or hairstyle, and this is my theory: These people must have gotten laid more at this time in their lives than any other when this style was in fashion and not much prior; as a result, they are afraid to let go of the style of the times, or zeitstyle, because either consciously or unconsciously, they attribute their animal magnetism to the "look." What is even more tragic about the condition is, I believe, that even after they stop getting action, the afflicted are too afraid to abandon la moda for anything, even in the face of complete abstinence, believing that something must be just around the corner. Why else would people still wear stone-washed jeans, or even more rare, the netted t shirt?

Case in point: Seven or eight years ago, my friend's cover band played in a bar full of forty-somethings. My other friend and I went to see the show, and there was this guy who looked exactly like Steven Segal--exactly. Not only was it his features, but also his hair(the slick, pulled back, tiny ponytail) and his dress(the small-collared black shirt buttoned all the way to the top). Even this guy's mannerisms, the squint and the raspy soft but firm voice were just like Segal, but it wasn't Segal. Ten to twenty years ago, this guy probably cleaned house with the ladies, but in 2002, he looked a bit foolish. But to play the devil's advocate, I must ask: should he have abandoned the look for the sake of not looking like a washed-up, B-list movie star (who would later have his own reality show) or should he get out of the shower, towel off on a bamboo mat, light some candles next to his plastic buddha, button his satin shirt and head into cougar central in the hopes that some fine lady has been carrying around a fetish for the star of Hard to Kill for the past twenty years? I think you know the answer to that; otherwise, we would not have the pleasure of seeing the Steve Perry and Kenny Rogers look alikes on the streets of our fair cities from time to time.

Not that I am completely free of this same fate; I realized that if being completely bald ever becomes taboo or pass'e, I might be mistaken for one of these guys, but in my defense it's not that I'm clinging to a ravenously sexy period of my life( because I don't think I've ever had one)but because I don't really have a choice, unless the male-pattern-baldness horseshoe becomes a turn-on. Could I become some anachronistic egg head that passersby will point to and laugh? Will I be the like the guy who thinks he's Burt Reynolds or Dee Snyder? Will my perfectly shaped head come to haunt me because I can never carpet it in thick lustrous waves of shiny, healthy hair?

Just as I started to get a bit panicky, something occurred to me, as if God heard my cry de profundis and decided to send the spirit of comfort and reassurance to let me know that everything is all right--that everything would always be fine, and that I would never be that guy unless I failed to update my wardrobe or facial hair: Bald is the new black. It's classic, simple, and if done tastefully, will never go out of style. It changed Michael Chiklis from the fat eighties comb-over commish to the bald, unrelenting (though morally corrupt) badass, Vick Mackey. I'm perfectly fine! I'm going to be OK!