EMMETT: It’s Neither Hair nor There

I  fell in love on Wednesday. He was a normal looking dude with straight teeth with no signs of a potential criminal offender. But what got me was his hair. Actually, the way his hair was parted: a perfect balance between skill and superior genetics. From my awkward butt-level seat on the T, I sat making unfounded judgments based on his flow and how awesome our kids’ hair would be.

I’ve had this fascination with other people’s hair (and later, drawing conclusions based on that) since I was a kid. On school picture days I was plopped down on a bale of hay  rocking a giant, glaring hair poof just above my frontal lobe.

On those mornings before marching off to finger painting and glue eating, my mother would sweat and struggle until she’d sculpted the perfect poof atop my oddly small head. Every wince was her command. I would whine and wriggle until her masterpiece defied gravity. She’d mumble through bobby pins clenched between her teeth, “Katherine, sit still. We’re lopsided.” Keep in mind; this was before that gremlin Snooki would use Bump-Its as her claim to fame. I’m not saying I started the trend as a kindergartener but a little nod would be appreciated.

“There,” she’d sigh in relief. My mother had done the impossible: she managed to make her five-year-old daughter resemble a certifiable douche. Little did she know, within the hour my hair would flop and my head would be human shaped yet again. And so, after years of tugging, crimping, and combing, I’ve developed a fascination with how people style their hair. Just as your skinny vanilla, “half-caff” latte says a whole lot about the person you’re turning into, your hair part says a mouthful.

You wake up in the morning, stare at the mirror until that familiar mug comes into focus and think, “Besides the usual loathing, what am I feeling today?” Then, inevitably, you divide and conquer each follicle knowing full well your part will be judged by peers and coworkers. From years of staring and uncomfortable eye contact, I’ve gathered the following observations regarding part styles:

The Middle Part – Just as Moses parted the Red Sea, you’ve decided to strike a glaring line down the center of your head. Boys, unless you’re Eric Matthews from “Boy Meets World” I recommend steering clear of the middle part. For you ladies, the Middle Part can be quite the chameleon: wear it to class to look relevant and instead of showering rock it at night so men don’t order you a drink with calories.

The Comb Over – We all do it, guys and girls alike. We were aiming for an approachable side part when BAM, you strayed too many inches to the right and now you’re rocking a ceritifed Donald Trump-er. Now, instead of a normal forehead, you’ve created a five-finger nightmare. All you need is a stiff breeze to rein in that part and you’ll start looking like a human being again. Phew.

The Power Part – This guy. You’ve created the perfect line equidistant between brow and ear. Is that Crew Gel I smell? God you look good. Walk into an interview with that part and you’re bound to land both the job and wealthiest executive. Actually, you don’t even have to say anything because your hair will literally do all the talking. Let me guess, you’re a perfectionist with mild OCD. Congratulations, you have the power part strong enough to make the other interns at Morgan Stanley bend over and kiss your Sperrys.

The M.I.A. Part – Seriously, where did it go? I know you were born with a weird fuzz of wayward hair but somewhere along the line you developed a distinct part. But now, after years of questionable personal hygiene, it has escaped the wrath of your Conair.  Like the Wall Street protest downtown, your hair sits there without much direction or impact. There’s no focus point and people are starting to talk. My suggestion? Create a hairdo just like you did with the magnetic stick on Wooly Willy’s hair when you were a kid.

The Frazzled Part – Jesus, you’ve got a zigzag labyrinth of hair going on up there. Did you just get in from last night or does your hair always look so nest-y? This phenomenon thrives during finals and crash dieting. The impressive build up of grease on your scalp is taking over, giving you that slick, creepy vibe. Do yourself a favor; take a bath and a Valium.

Hopefully you can walk away from this with a hardened knowledge of people’s hair and when it’s necessary to wear a hat. Next week we’ll explore “Bangs and Hanson: Things we regret about the ‘90s.”

Kacy Emmett is a senior in the College of Communication and a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at kcemmett@bu.edu.