I just hate the word funky when referring to hair. Funky. Fuuuuunky. Funky. Fu-u-unky. Founky. Funky. If you imagine the scene from Willy Wonka (original movie, of course) where they’re in the tunnel and the boat is getting faster and faster and faster and there is some kind of an image where a caterpillar is crawling across an eyeball then you have a fairly accurate account of what is going on in my mind when asked for funky. Unless it’s cheese or a particular dance.
In hair terms, funky is where anything pretty or pleasing to the eye is decimated by a huge iron fist of ugly. Funky is Betsy Johnson hair (now don’t argue with me here. Put that hair on anyone else and it’s like Dog the Bounty Hunter ((Should that be capitalized? Not sure….but i’ll definitely get to him in another post: “A rose is a rose?”))). Funky is Kate Gosselin. Funky is any girl on Rock of Love and by girl I mean Brett Michaels. Funky is tiger stripes and badly done Ombre color. Funky is just, well, funky.
So please don’t ask for funky. Ask for edgy. Ask for interesting. Ask for unique. Ask for something not boring. Because if you do ask for funky, you just might get it.
Ok, really I could pontificate this for hours on end completely sober. It is not untrue that there is a link between hairdressers and overdone, over processed, over-the-top, (simply put) bad hair. And you can pick em out in a sea of people. I had a friend, Michael Fischer* who was a hairdresser as well and when he would drive by an obvious offender of the profession, would yell out the car window “HAAAAIRRDREEEESSERRR!” as he sped by. The unsuspecting victim (of their own making, of course) would look confused because they weren’t sure if that would be an insult or not. I mean, it shouldn’t be but occasionally when someone picks me out as a hairdresser I have to go home and re-evaluate my whole wardrobe.
Really, though, the answer lies somewhere between Japanese street fashion and The Real Housewives of Orange County. Simply put, once you are around enough people that look insane you forget what insanity looks like. The realness of this came to me after watching the Joan Rivers documentary because at the beginning scene I thought “Holy Lord, she looks nuts” and by the end I thought “Aw, she’s kind of pretty”. And like when I got back from a month long trip to Japan, I was wearing black knee socks with my heels which had been the first fashion offense I noted when I got off the plane in Japan a month earlier.
One of my favorite questions to ask a stylist in an interview is “who’s hair do you like?” and “who’s hair don’t you like?”. Sometimes this can totally stump a stylist, which I always find surprising. It usually means they are following hair magazines instead of fashion. And think about the idea of a stylist emulating a stylist emulating a stylist. It can go so downhill that you’re now the head stylist for Real Housewives of the O.C..
But that doesn’t explain Crocs. Or does it?
*Also responsible for altering the Cedar Court condo sign to Edar Out.