Evelyn Vega

In August, I went to a salon where stylists actually wash their clients’ hair before trimming it for the first time.

After my formative years of Great Clips appointments and my grandfather’s do-it-yourself bowl-cut procedures on the porch, experiences like these are some of the finer things in life. Not having to rinse shampoo and conditioner out of my roots and ends is high society and living lavishly.

Part of my luxurious hour-long spa retreat included a gallery walk of the various watercolor paintings adorning the ceilings in Bluebird Studio. After, I leaned my head back into the wash basin with the kitschy postcards from above transporting me to all of the new sights I would see.

Yet, a more physically grounding aspect of the preparation for the cut was the complimentary scalp massage that eased my nerves and distracted me from the very style I had avoided for the past ten years. I anticipated that my perspective would change watching life pass behind the pair of curtain bangs rather than maintaining that non-obstructed and eternal glimpse of long-held desires like an audience member of my own experiences.

Throughout the overall planning and booking, I had already received various warnings that worsened my hesitation about my decision, but the last attempt came from the receptionist herself, Madeline, the daughter of the salon owner.

“My mom cuts my hair whenever, working here,” she said. “Three years ago, I asked to get the big chop, but she refused at first since she assumed I’d have them for two months and then beg to grow them out again.”

Madeline wagged her finger at me for a moment, but then motioned toward her current fringe and shrugged in a fit of self-awareness. “Obviously, I never went back.”

This woman spoke to me like I was signing my rights away over some blunt bangs, but, truthfully, I had already taken a pledge to join an entirely separate cult much earlier in the summer.

Dakota Johnson has dominated my Pinterest boards since June. Rather than her various acclaimed film roles and fierce cut, I mostly admire Johnson’s apathy and nonconfrontational public attitude. She lied about her love for limes in an Architectural Digest tour of her kitchen but casually confessed to actually having an allergy to them during a Jimmy Fallon interview months later and, as a child of prominent Hollywood actors, called the journalistic discourse about nepotism incited by a viral 2022 Vulture exposé “lame” and “boring.”

Instead of allowing an outsider-imposed girl-next-door image to render her plain and boring, she casts herself this way and almost abuses her role.

A viral clip of her that resonates with me the most, along with thousands of other social media users, shows how she dismantled a televised attempt to be humiliated during a taping of Ellen Degeneres’ namesake daytime talk show. After being accused of not inviting the host to her birthday party on air, Johnson calmly disputed her claims, saying that she did in fact send Degeneres an invitation: the “Actually, no, that’s not the truth, Ellen,” heard around the world. Johnson even suggested that Degeneres ask her producer, who confirmed Johnson’s invitation.

I still watch this video with awe as someone who deeply resonates with being treated like a doormat. The wispy bangs I requested in honor of Ms. Johnson felt appropriate, considering one of my objectives this year, besides changing my hair, was to demand more respect from others without sacrificing my unassuming and passive character.

Taylor, my hairdresser, also expressed her approval of Johnson’s layers when I swiped through a gallery of her sleek, effortless looks during our consultation, courtesy of Google Images’ cache of TMZ paparazzi photos.

Besides a renewed serene aura, a large factor in my decision to recustomize was influenced by my facial structure and hair texture. Longer diamond-shaped faces characterized by their sharper jawlines and high hairline are generally hard to come by. The Johnson-inspired do is a gentle and youthful look that radiates, not desperation and reactivity, but ease, perfect for an individual who lives with their head in the clouds but without any of the smoke coming out of their ears.

I suppose the “big chop” is only in literal reference to the process that left the clumps of hair that Taylor and company swept from the floor after I left Bluebird Studio. Contrary to any current slang definitions, I feel more statuesque and like myself than ever since cutting bangs.