Hippie hippie hair
Man, I love my hippie hair.
Seriously. My hair is rock star long (down to my waist) and I’m more Breck girl than stinky hippie; I love to see how people define “hippie hair.” Think dreds, think ‘fro, think long cascading curls ala this excerpt from Time, printed Oct. 27, 1967, “…the day of the caveman, whose present-day counterpart paraded his virility with such readily identifiable characteristics as the Prussian haircut, is in decline; the day of the womanly man who burns his draft card and lets his hair down is beginning to dawn.”
Yeah, baby. Who’s yer daddy now?
Er, maybe not.
Sing it with me now:
Let it fly in the breeze
And get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
A home for fleas
A hive for bees
A nest for birds
There ain’t no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder
Of my…
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Then again…
There’s always a pooper in every party…
Tags: HAIR, hippie, hippie-hair, mary-kate-olsen, tommy-chong
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