Ok, so we've asked you about the most expensive haircut you've ever received. But what about the worst? Y'all are really lucky I couldn't find the picture I was going to post of me circa this very haircut. I'm not going to make the rules for you, but I do think childhood shouldn't count, unless you suffered psychological pain. I mean, yes, I'm sure many of us were subjected to some strain of Dorothy/Mark Hamill wedge (here's a blueprint if you'd like to recreate the glory), but did we really hurt inside because of it? Prove me wrong.
I've definitely had my share of lukewarm, vaguely crowd-pleasing haircuts, but then I have what I call my "high ropes haircuts"--these are character builders--the ones where you walk into a place with long hair and violent eyes, or better yet--(this is my own nomination & watershed) go over to your best friend's house, imbibe something 80 proof, cue Pavement, and hand over whatever you've christened as shears. Well la di da, I was twenty, and my friend, bless her heart, entrusted her head to me right after. If you switched the track to KMFDM or even just some GNR, probably Sweet Child O' Mine, it would pretty much be the best blood sisters ceremony ever. It wasn't just the not quite honey-you're-always-pretty response from my father: "Interesting." And it wasn't just the disregard I had for the Ann Arbor windchill. That haircut was really just the obvious result of having Elliott Smith as white noise--you bet you're going to be someone who fights problems with bigger problems. The reactionary haircut, you gotta love it. Okay your turn. Worst haircut.