Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand. (“The Velveteen Rabbit”)
I love the feeling of the fresh air on my face and the wind blowing through my hair.
Mullets, although trendy, are still terrible.
Shaving my head is maybe the most radical thing I’ve done in the name of beauty.
New York is a melting pot, especially where I grew up in the Bronx. I’m Trini and I’m Dominican, and there’s a lot of Dominicans that look a certain type of way. They have soft, pretty, curly hair. Growing up, guys would ask me weird questions like, ‘If you’re Dominican, why is your hair so […]
If truth is beauty, how come no one has their hair done in the library?
Nycilla dyes her locks, ’tis said, but ’tis foul aspersion; She buys them black, they therefore need no subsequent immersion.
Age and guile beat youth, innocence, and a bad haircut.