You know that scene near the end of Goodfellas when Joe Pesci's character, Tommy DeVito, gets dressed up in his finest suit and tie because he's about to become a made man, and then he walks into the room for the ceremony, but the ceremony never happens because - BANG - Tommy gets shot in the head?
Saturday afternoon I had a similar - if somewhat less bloody - experience. Like Tommy, I never saw it coming.
I'm sitting in a barber's chair at Supercuts, getting the usual SFTC 'do - #3 clippers on the sides and back, scissors on top, sideburns trimmed. Everything's going just fine when my friendly hairstylist casually asks, "Do you use any styling products?"
"Yes," I say. "Pomade."
"Oh. You might want to switch to fiber."
Missing a sterling opportunity to make a joke about already having all the bran I need in my diet, I ask why she thinks I should take such a dramatic step involving my carefully chosen haircare products.
"Your hair is thinning a little on top," she said. "It'll help it look thicker."
[Needle scratches record]
Ouch.
This was especially painful to hear because, throughout my entire haircut-receiving life, I had been told by stylists and barbers that I had such a "thick head of hair." (Which, if you think about it, sounds kind of weird. Maybe it's the "thick head" part.)
I realize they meant it as a compliment, but it was sort of a drag. During my middle school and high school years, I could never wear my hear like the cool kids were wearing theirs. Despite my best efforts, it usually ended up looking... well, a lot like the guy on the right in this picture.
But apparently those days have come to an end. Because now I need to switch to fiber.
Thankfully, I just recently bought two more containers of pomade, which means that my thinning hair will just have to look crappy until approximately the end of the decade.
As I was considering that fact this morning - in what I hope will be my most esoteric thought of the week - I realized that my haircare products have evolved roughly every 10 years. For those of you keeping track (which I figure will be nobody except for Bugs), that evolution has gone something like this:
1980s: Mousse
1990s: Gel
2000s: Pomade
2010s (projected): Fiber
Interesting that the French-sounding products seem to be in vogue every other decade.
Anyway, the whole experience was a huge downer and I was really feeling old. But I had mostly gotten over it by Sunday morning, when I was driving home from the gym. I had the car radio tuned to the oldies station, which usually plays music from before I was born - Beatles, Elvis, The Supremes. But apparently, they've changed that strategy. Because some jackass music director with a twisted sense of humor thought it would be OK for the oldies station to play the vastly unremarkable Naked Eyes song "Promises, Promises." Which was released in 1983, when I was 11.
Thanks, everyone. I think I got the message.
