“She asks me why, I’m just a hairy guy. I’m hairy noon and night. Hell, that’s a fright, I’m hairy high and low, …” – The Cowsills, 1969
He once had lots of hair; blond it was. Over the years, his hair was styled in ways that followed the fashion trends or mimicked music and film stars of the time. Brushed back, in his eyes, over his ears, flopping across his forehead, or nearly down to his shoulders.
But it wasn’t to last. By his late 20s, it began receding, and by his 30s it was thinning with less on top. Like many others, he had fallen victim to male pattern baldness – reportedly, a genetic condition that affects half of all men, some sooner than others.
Growing up in the late 1950s and 60s, it was short back and sides for him, as it was for most boys of his generation. A part on the left side and a wave at the front, held in place with Californian Poppy or Brylcreem. His small town didn’t have a barbershop, so early on his hair was cut by the next-door neighbour Mr Hill or sometimes his Uncle Fred. Later, it was Denny Whelan, who became the local town barber, cutting hair in his back shed on Saturday mornings for two bob a head.
At school, older boys sometimes picked on him for having what they called “fancy” or “poofter” hair. They would ruffle it up at every chance. His mum told him not to worry – they were just jealous, not brave enough or not allowed to fashion their locks in the same style. Besides, they needed him: he was better at sports than most of them.
Music and pop culture had the greatest influence on hair and fashion throughout his youth. The creativity of music and film industries set the ‘must-have’ styles. In the 1950s, actors like Clark Gable, Johnny Carson, Gregory Peck, James Dean and Rock Hudson popularised suave, classic haircuts. As did music celebrities Cliff Richards, Phil and Don Everly and even Jerry Lee Lewis, while Audrey Hepburn and other female celebrities brought elegance with the elaborate beehive. Later, John Travolta brought back the Elvis Presley-like bodgie brushed-back cut with ‘Grease’, paired with stovepipe jeans and leather jackets (and Olivia Newton John!).
With a smile he reflects on the time when he had the Elvis brushback hair-do, followed by the Beatles mop-top and then longer hair styles reminiscent of other rock and roll bands of his youth. Being blond and with a Beatles fringe over his forehead, he had even had his hair styled like former 1960s St. Kilda ruckman and pinup sex symbol, Carl Ditterich.
Yes, he had witnessed Elvis’s slick brush-back and finger curl, the Beatles’ mop tops, Pink Floyd’s longer psychedelic locks, and Queen’s flamboyant front man Freddie Mercury flaunting short styles. He remembers the Glam Rock and Glitter eras of the 70s giving way to Gothic Punk. He never embraced the Devil’s Lock or Mohawks, but he noticed their emergence. In the 1980s, big hair took over – Farrah Fawcett, Cher, Madonna, Bon Jovi – everyone was covered in hair. Except him. He was starting to thin out.
He recalls hip-hop and rap bringing tall, geometrically styled hair into fashion. He even read about the annual Mullet Championship in Kurri Kurri, NSW, with categories like ‘grubby’, ‘ranga’, and ‘vintage’. The mullet remains popular.
He has often wondered why people copy the styles of their favourite artists. Is it admiration? A desire to look rich and famous? Or, like him, simply the pull to be trendy and fit in? Whatever it is, pop culture has long held a monopoly over hair fashion – and with social media now, even more so.
He’s not sure what the latest trend is. Actually, he finds it a bit confusing. These days, he sees it all: short, long, curly, shaved – some even want to be bald. He’s noticed the rise of the man bun, even among sports stars. He has observed too, the 2000s popularity of not only the mullet, but the shaved head and buzzcut, all loved by many of the AFL players he watches on TV. Indeed, when watching just one AFL game you can see all the hairstyles popular over the generations captured in one place at one time.
Furthermore, there is seemingly a resurgence of the 1950s hairstyles for men – the Ducktail, the Pompadour, the Greaser, flat-tops, and Widow’s Peak. He also notes the similarities of the modern hairstyles with the short back and sides of the WW1 and WW2 eras – and his youth.
When his hairline started to recede and thin in his late 20s, some menfolk teased him about it. Thankfully, women didn’t. His receding hairline didn’t seem to lessen his opportunities for girlfriends he had known. Indeed, a couple had mentioned to him that it was only men that worried about going bald and that women looked for different attributes in men other than their hairstyle – this had always given him some comfort. Over the years he had noted that while male baldness is more or less accepted, women face harsher judgement when they lose their hair – usually from men!
He postulates on the positives of going bald: there are no more expensive shampoos, haircuts, or styling. Mornings are quicker without combing, gelling or fretting over bad hair days. Embracing baldness as he has done, can bring a surprising sense of control and self-acceptance. He read that baldness can signal strength, charisma and wisdom a la Bruce Willis, The Rock, Patrick Stewart and nowadays, John Travolta. It is cooler in summer: less hair = less sweat (although sweat does roll down his head when exercising and sunscreen is essential).
On his path to becoming bald he has experienced the negatives of a shiny pate. Losing hair in your 20s and 30s can be cruel when your peers and colleagues still have thick locks. People may make bald jokes or liken you to less-than-flattering characters (e.g. see Elton’s ‘Shrek’ comparison below). Some men worry they’ll be seen as less attractive as hair is tied to youth, style and self-image – it’s loss can feel like losing part of oneself. Winter becomes a season of beanies and hoodies but in his case styled hats and caps depending on the occasion and weather. He is not suited to beanies and while he wears hoodies, he refuses to pull the hood over his head – he doesn’t want to look like a house burglar or someone in hiding.
He had wondered, albeit very briefly, if he should consider a transplant or a wig that wouldn’t blow off in the wind. However, most of the transplant jobs he had observed were not that great and he certainly didn’t want anything as awful as the wigs worn by the infamous, formerly incarcerated, but now deceased Phil Spector. He dislikes wigs anyway, but understands that some people require a wig for medical or physical disfigurement reasons. Also, he wouldn’t want to be the butt of jokes and the jibes likely from friends and others.
He recently read Elton John’s book ‘Me Elton’. Elton recalls a disastrous dye job in the 1970s that left him nearly bald. “Some people are blessed with the kind of face that looks good without hair,” Elton wrote. “I am not one of those people. Without hair, I bear a striking resemblance to the cartoon character Shrek.” After painful procedures and a failed weave (once compared to a dead squirrel), Elton finally went with a wig – and the jokes stopped. He experienced the same thing: people eventually stopped mentioning his hair loss.
His reading told him that while genetics play a role in baldness, predicting it is tricky. Many genes are involved, and it’s the gradual shrinking of hair follicles that causes growth to stop. At one point, he even wondered about ancient Egyptian remedies—like rhino fat. Apparently, that didn’t work either. In his mind’s eye, he imagines the furore and controversy if rhino fat were to be produced commercially today!
Early on, he explored over-the-counter solutions, shampoos, and herbal supplements. He also read about Minoxidil (originally a blood pressure treatment), which reportedly helps two out of three men by increasing blood flow to the scalp. But rubbing it in twice a day? No thanks. Rogaine promised 80% success as long as you kept using it. Therein lies the rub: the cost added up to thousands a year.
Along with a couple of balding mates, he even gave Ashley and Martin (A&M) products a go in the early days. The products didn’t work for him or his mates. There was no A&M ‘Make this your hair loss turning point’ success story among them. In later years, he saw Pat Cash, Shane Warne and England’s Darren Gough spruiking the merits of A&M’s hair transplant system, and he briefly considered giving it a go. But like others he knew, he ruled it out – too much hassle, too much long-term maintenance, and ultimately a very expensive option. Fine for the superstars who likely got it all for free.
He looked into diet – Omega-3, iron-rich spinach, exercise. All said to help. But none worked for him. He stayed active, ate well – and still went bald.
‘This is all very well and good, but I’m still bald.’ – Larry David (creator of ‘Seinfeld’ and ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’).
These days, he finds comfort in seeing his sport and music heroes balding too. Not that he cares much now. Age has brought acceptance. He owns more hats than he can count, and they’ve become a part of his identity.
Sometimes he wonders if we’ve been looking at baldness the wrong way. Maybe it’s not something to be ashamed of. Some studies suggest bald men are perceived as more educated, honest, and virile.
He can live with that.
There’s good news for men today too: being bald can be stylish, empowering – even normal. Especially if you own it with confidence.
Maybe – just maybe – there’s still a little rock star left under that hat.
More from Allan Barden can be read Here.
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Thanks, Allan, for your history of hair! Once, as you note, there were trends that came and went. It now seems to me that evey style is in evidence. Mullets and 70’s moustaches came back and are now mainstream. Is irony dead?
Think of a bald head as a solar panel for a sex machine
I greatly sympathise with the protagonist in this piece.
I once also sported a mullet.
Thanks, Allan.
Thanks for another great read, Alan! Much of what you wrote mirrored my early life with hair. I had a few extra experiences to contend with, though. My father cut our hair throughout my early years until the start of secondary school. Dad had zero abilities in this regard, and the kids at school would cruelly laugh at my latest haircut. Dad could only do a “basin” cut with manual clippers, which wasn’t trendy in the 1960s (and probably never was!). I remember crying through the ordeal, knowing that Dad’s click-click-click strokes up the back of my head would result in ridicule at school.
At secondary school, I was finally allowed to get my haircut by the local barber, but the headmaster had a rule that students’ hair wasn’t to touch their collar (we also had to wear a school tie). This was in the 1970s, when men’s hair flowed down to their shoulders.
Despite these significant hurdles in my development as a young person, I now find myself “trendy,” with hair that is thinning even as I write this comment, having hair that matches most of my ageing friends! ?
Keep the stories coming, Allan. I enjoy reading them.
Great reflections Allan, from another rep on the less hair (is better) side of the aisle. Mind you I haven’t really given the fucks you have, which might suggest you had v cool hair for enough time to agree with the Joni classic chorus. I did not. Growing up in the 70s I had long hair but mine was just a frizz. Not anything like Mr Plant or Phil Lynott, just frizz. Thankfully punk arrived giving us lads license to cut it short and that is pretty much how I’ve cut my hair since. And over the years watched it thin, recede and just fuck right off. For 30+ years I’ve been singing along to the lyrics of the great Clash song, Bankrobber singing:ain’t no point to wash comb your hair when it’s grey and thinning. In real time. I’m glad that age has brought acceptance, and yes, I do like a hat or cap.
And great comments. MR, irony died a long time ago and just to be sure it was dead Humpty Trumpty drove a stake through its heart when he took over the Kennedy Center (yeah, that’s the place that hosts the Mark Twain Prize for American Humour). Swish, that is hilarious and if I’m any gauge, not that true. Smokie, first point bang on, second point, we don’t need to know, do we? It was long ago and in a galaxy far away and what are you asking, did I have a mullet, I’m gunna say, maybeish.
Lynden
I love the ’trendy’ comment. It is consistent with my comment about not knowing what is actually trendy these days, no more so than on the football field where we have it all!
When I was in primary school I remember a chap whose father used to do exactly as you describe your Dad doing to you. Kids are cruel. His nickname was ‘Basinhead’. I used to feel sorry for him. He was a big guy too, but a gentle soul who, if he had wanted, could have knocked the sense out of any of the jokesters but never did.
It took a trip to Launceston for me to sneakily get the Elvis Presley bodgie cut with the square cut at the back. My barbers in Swansea would only cut the short back and sides with the part down one side. Probably all they could do I suppose. Seems like generations ago; bit like inkwells on school desks.
Mickey
On reflection, about the only cut I don’t think we do see on the footy ground these days is a good copy of Elvis’s bodgie brushback.
Rick
A la Swish’s comment, unfortunately solar panels weren’t invented when I needed them!
“Hair today , gone tomorrow”
Thanks AB – great stuff. Fortunately I still have all of mine but I really feel for the blokes who flick the one strand across the naked plate.
Genetic luck.
58 and I still have a head of thick,long and mostly dark hair.
Thank you for your fab story about hair Allan, thoroughly enjoyed it.
I always had curly hair. When young, Mum would ruffle my hair to bring out the curl and of course she always encouraged me to eat my crusts on my sandwiches because if I didn’t my curls would go away. I struggled when the Beatles came along. It was difficult to brush curly hair forwards to the eyebrows, it just didn’t work. When Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix came along I was in my element as my hair became longer and curlier and I felt happy with it. Recently, I had my first haircut for over three years (also in that time I had refrained from brushing my hair) – a number 3 which shocked family and friends! I’m getting used to it now and it is much easier to look after.
Great read thanks Allan!
I remember dad using Grecian 2000 to add some colour to his greying thinning locks!
My only brother had the only non straight hair in the family ( his nickname was appropriately Curls). Every Sunday before church he was put in a wrestling hold under Dad’s arm pit and was immersed in a full flow of water in the laundry trough in a bid to tame it!
We girls ( except for me who wanted to be a ballerina and refused to have my hair cut) had short back and sides and were often mistaken for boys.
Mum ( a former hairdresser before embracing farm life) sported the bee hive look especially at weddings and balls, at which she was always the belle!
So we were a family with a hair history!!!