Picture This

How did it happen, do you think, that little boys are now more fussy than little girls about...their hair? I have highly scientific proof to back me up, so don't even attempt to refute me. What proof is this, Ver? you ask. Well, I'll tell you: Picture Day, 2005.

Imagine if you will, eighteen 5-year-olds standing in a single fidgety line. The girls either wear outfits that their well-meaning mothers clearly forced them to don (does anyone remember Garanimals?), or they wear these sort of boho chic ensembles that are charming in a "I'm-five-I-can-get-away-with-this-now-back-off" way. The thing of true note about the girls, though, is that they exude a free-flowing wildness, and that this wildness makes itself known via their long hair, which—to a girl (except for one who arrives every day with ultra-tight, oxygen-depriving braids)—is clipped on one side to keep them from appearing, I don't know, completely feral.

The boys? The boys are dressed up and apparently share the same stylist. They wear rep stripe vests and button-down shirts, pressed khakis and red cable sweaters. And the hair! The boys collectively sport more product on their noggins than I use in two weeks' time. Most of them go for the pronounced spikes made popular by that blandly cute kid in Jerry Maguire. I hear one mom say to another, "You know, he does it by himself. Ten minutes in front of the mirror every morning." And the other answers, "Same here!"

Special prize, though, goes to the two excellent and superbly shiny fauxhawks (they are basically bending it like Beckham) in the group. One must give credit where credit is due, and so I say to the mom of fauxhawk #1: "Oh my God, his hair is fantastic." She points with her chin to fauxhawk #2 and says, "It's because of that kid! He had his that way on the first day of school and ever since then my son's been telling me, 'I want it just like F's. Just like his.'"

And so I kind of like this, this gentle twist on things.