Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Frivolity vs. Résumés.

da-da-da, da-da-da, da-da-da, da-da-da

i've got my mind on other things
i don't recall a single word you said to me
i fell into oblivion dreaming 'bout our futuristic life together
just you and me

-Sweet Thing 2009

Day 25 of unemployment: I need to get serious about finding work. But instead, today I took care of some other business: bang trim at Civello (free), tooth cleaning and fixing a chipped molar at the Dentist (still covered under benefits until the end of the week), and reactivation of my student number at George Brown. I am going to start taking classes again. 

Really though, productive or not, I'm stalling. Rather than half-heartedly applying for jobs I don't want, I need to be using this time to actually decide, once and for all, what I want to be when I grow up. Clearly I have an ultimate goal, but what now? What do I want to do for the next two-to-five years until I'm ready to open shop? Something meaningful and relevant, of course. But what IS that? Perhaps the reason for the stall.

These questions may be too heavy for someone who has just had a tooth grinding sans anesthetic, so while I push aside life-altering decisions for one more day, let's discuss something far more frivolous.


Before you judge: yes, I think this is ridiculous, too. Here goes. I feel a certain responsibility, as the wife of an up-and-coming recording artist (ahem, international musical sensation? too soon?), to project a certain image. As if I am somehow representing the band. Yeah. I'm sure the guys, including Alex, wouldn't blink so much as one eye between them if I arrived barefoot in a flour sack. But, I insist on dressing the part. Or, maybe it's just an excuse to dress the part. It's true that I tend to overdress: glitter tights and jaunty felt chapeau may be overkill for a dive like Lee's. But no matter. I single-handedly run the one-member Bandwives Club, so overcompensation is a must. A cry for help, maybe? I need back-up (please, please, will ONE of you find a bloody girlfriend already?).

I am ever on the quest for the perfect haircut to polish off the wife-of-bearded-rocker look. I quite liked my pre-wedding hair, which I was growing out for the occasion, when I could occasionally force it into messy waves with bangs. 

 But my locks are too thin and wispy to pull off this (ultimate) look:

I lose volume quickly and my bangs end up greasy. Feist seems to make it work, but I simply can't avoid ending up limp and stringy on top.

And the sexy-bangs-over-one-eye thing? I look less like a sexy rocker wife and more like an Australian sheep dog. How does she make it look so easy?

[ exactly ]

Going back to the long shag with bangs is still one of my best options, though. And, most bandwife appropriate. I may just need a wave perm. Or Rogaine.

Currently, my do is a sleek angled bob with severe bangs. It's polished, yet edgy, and I love it. 

Problem: it does not love humidity. I spent our entire Dominican honeymoon in a workout headband and scruffy little ponytail. As soon as summer in Toronto hits (read: 24/7 steam bath), no amount of straight ironing will help. If I keep the current look, I will no doubt be reaching for hats and headbands more often. Hence my dilemma. At least the limp mop look cooperates with damp weather.

But there is another option. I can be squeamish about some things. Heights, creepy-crawlies. But when it comes to hair, I've been-there-done-that. I've gone every colour in the hair-rainbow and have sported it with bangs, without, and at every length. I spent years in a super-short no-nonsense blonde pixie. I am contemplating a return to this look. Old school. But a modern version of it: this time, I swap highlights for an all-over white-blonde and I keep the bangs long. Think Agyness Deyn:

I could pull it off 10 years and 10 pounds ago. But could I, now? I suppose I could get my feet wet with just the cut and work up to the blonde. And, with the long bangs, I wouldn't feel as if I had lost a limb - I could still have style options. The nouveau feminine pompadour, for one. Channeling a little Linda Evangelista or Natalie Portman, maybe? Not so scary, right? Well, maybe if you had their bone structure. i don't.

My stylist and I discussed this. Alex says we sound like a couple. Bollocks. We have a business relationship centered around the business of my hair-do. What? She says I should get one more bang trim before summer, then let it go. Oh, and I should stop dyeing it. Eep. She's right though. If I am potentially bleaching the hell out of it in a few months, I should give it a break.

While I ponder cut options (and avoid real-life decisions), please enjoy my 10-year history of hair:


  1. we have the same hair-story and present. i'm thinking short too, so over my hair right now.
    ps. you wear band wife well.

  2. Dayna, I can not really properly comment on your hairstyle or lack thereof as... well I was impressed with how you looked bemused and befuddled stumbling down the stairwell on christmas morning being forced to say hi to me and chris hobbs in a confused bewildered fashion. you looked good then as I imagine you look just fine now regardless of your perceived new role as 'band wife'. Do what makes you feel happy and you always will be as such!
    Cheers, Chris Cowen

  3. I completely understand your obliged feeling to uphold a certain bandwife look. I myself am a bandsister and I feel the exact same way. You never know who you're going to meet at a show, and you gotta represent the boys. We are the unofficially self-appointed PR staff, networkers, promoters, advertisers. Therefore, we must dress the part. Or, like you said, it's an excuse to dress the part. Tomato, tomahto. :)