The bob is back – but that doesn't mean older women have to follow the trend
Back in 1991, when I first returned to full-time employment, I shared an office with a young woman I found fascinating for two reasons: first, her appearance and, second, her daily assertion that her husband had not and never would, see her without full makeup. This doesn’t seem so odd in 2014 when it’s possible to invest in semi-permanent makeup, or buy cosmetics you can (allegedly) wear three days in a row, but in 1991 I found it deeply peculiar.
Aside from her painted doll face, the thing that had me transfixed was her hair – a spun and lacquered construction of such armour-plated rigidity I found myself hopelessly distracted every time I looked at her in full sunlight. Each strand lit up, framing her face like a solar flare, beaded with hair spray and, here and there, taking on the slightly matted appearance of damp candyfloss. And it always looked the same. God knows how long it took to achieve – hours, probably. These were the years of Big Hair, perhaps best illustrated by Tess McGill and her girl gang in the film Working Girl, so it was unavoidable. But what it demonstrates is how a hairstyle can whisk you back through the years with deadly accuracy to a moment you would perhaps rather forget. Another style that does this is the bob.
As reported here, the bob is having another “moment” and I would be willing to punt a fiver that most of us at some point have tried a bob cut. I know I did, several times. There was the sharp and iconic five-point bob invented by the late Vidal Sassoon, which suited the heart-shaped face and firm jawline of my 20s. There was a longer “Anna Wintour” version as I grew that out. I had my “Purdey” moment. I dyed it white blonde and went asymmetric in the 80s – a bit Paula Yates and a bit Phil Oakey – a look I loved so much I still use a picture of it as my comment avatar on the Guardian website. (I wonder if that was my prime?) When my jawline announced that I had arrived in my 40s, I resurrected the cut as a soft, shoulder-length bob.
The bob is a rare thing – it evolves with you. It ignores the oft-stated fashion commandment: if you remember it the first time around, don’t go there.
I have no plans to resurrect the bob for myself this season because I think the bob becomes a little selective about which face it suits as we age. However, it remains the stylists’ go-to for a woman over 40. If you walk into a salon with no clear idea of what you want, the chances are you will walk out with some kind of bob.
The problem is that a bob actually isn’t for everyone once you pass the mid-life landmark. I admire enormously the statement and individuality of Jean Woods’s blunt cut. But would it suit me? No. Because I don’t have Jean’s strong features and, right now, I prefer the versatility of long hair. Not that I wear it loose – I seldom do – but I do plait it, tie it up, wrap a scarf round it and, when the occasion demands it, back comb it into a “bed head” look.
The other thing I don’t have is Jean’s thick, strong hair. That’s the other thing that happens to us as we age – hair changes. With the inevitable hormonal change, the hair shaft can become thinner and the amount of hair appears less, although you probably have the same amount you have always had. Some women develop male-pattern baldness, which must be distressing but can often be fixed. Either way fine, thinning hair does not suit a bob. But with longer fine hair, I can employ a range of tips and wrinkles (no pun intended) to give the illusion of there being more than there actually is. I like that. It makes me happy.
What I can categorically say I will never do is fall back on the cobwebby, spun-silk space helmet beloved of grandes dames the world over – and much younger women a quarter of a century ago. (How old does writing that make me feel?) Nor am I likely to return to a “mullet”, a bubble perm or, God forbid, take any notice of that other mark of an older woman – cutting all my hair off (as my mother did).
This is what I advise: a pastel colour on a silver crop (as perfected by the innovative Bleach salon in east London) looks stunning on an older face with good bone structure. Vivienne Westwood traded her titian for a white urchin cut. Daphne Selfe’s trademark mane lends itself to a number of dramatic styles for her modelling work. We are “allowed” to be playful with the way we look.
But it’s more fundamental than that. Just because something is everywhere and on-trend, I no longer feel compelled to do it. So for that reason, as far as the bob is concerned, I’m out.
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