One cause of dissatisfaction has now been eliminated. I've bought a fresh collection of black hairbands, at Boots in Barnstaple. Flyaway hair? No longer. It's back under control.
Boots had three kinds of hairband that I thought worth buying. First, this, actually a pair of black and brown all-plastic bands with curves ends that I'd been using in the past, before experimentally giving them up in early August:
Next, by the same manufacturer, a band with a rubber comfort lining and the ability to mould itself to the exact shape of one's head:
And finally, a band by Boots itself, also with a rubber comfort lining though without that moulding ability:
All three kinds are nice to wear, but already I'm tending to favour the Boots own-brand.
It's good to be wearing a band again. Quite apart from its obvious functional use in keeping the Melford hairstyle in order, I have always felt that the visible line of the band on the top of my head has helped to 'frame' my face, and make the most of whatever appearance assets are still there. Sheer vanity? Well, I'm not wearing a jewelled tiara, am I? It's a plain black band, and not in any way cool and trendy. It's as stylish as a hair clip would be. Or indeed anything popped into or onto the hair to fix it into place. I could be a little more chic by wearing sunglasses as a hairband of sorts; but that would look strange, as I need to wear ordinary glasses all the time, and a pair of sunglasses perched above the regular specs would look ridiculous. 'Four-eyes', you know.
What about the band looking childish? Again, it's a plain black accessory. A grown-up colour. It's not pink or turquoise, with little ponies or fairies on it. OK, these things are known as 'Alice bands', but that's no reason to dismiss them with a snigger. Do I look like a child? I think not. Decidedly not. Nor do I go about dressed in pretty-pretty attire, sporting waist-length hair and a winsome expression.
So I have now renounced looking like this when out of doors:
And instead have returned to this:
I know which look I vastly prefer. The bottommost shot shows the hair being gently taken by a breeze coming in through the caravan doorway. That's an acceptable displacement.
It's a terrible nuisance, though, when the hair scatters in all directions, flopping around, and you see the world through a cascade of pearl-white strands, and you look generally bedraggled.
I can't think why I was ever so strongly urged to 'give up the hairband' in the first place. If I'd had thick, heavy, lustrous hair, and plenty of it, well, going bandless might have worked. If I'd been happy to smother it with creams or mousse or wax, which I wasn't, that too might have worked. If I'd used a packetful of pins and clips that also could have been an answer. Or maybe a hat - a beret, for instance. But none of those last alternatives were appealing. Freedom of choice matters. And although I respect my friends' views, and their own preferences, and their well-developed sense of style, I will always in the end do what I feel happiest with.