LIZ JONES'S DIARY: In which I finally get the chop - YOU Magazine Fashion Beauty Celebrity Health Life Relationships Horoscopes Food Interiors Travel Sign in Welcome!Log into your account Forgot your password? Password recovery Recover your password Search Sign in Welcome! Log into your account Forgot your password? Get help Password recovery Recover your password A password will be e-mailed to you. YOU Magazine Fashion Beauty Celebrity Health Life Relationships Horoscopes Food Interiors Travel Home Life Liz Jones LIZ JONES’ S DIARY In which I finally get the chop By You Magazine - October 13, 2019 I’ve officially gone mad. On Friday afternoon, I had all my hair cut off. Let me explain. On Thursday, I was browsing the Vogue website and a headline grabbed me: ‘Kaia Gerber now has the fashion world’s most-wanted haircut.’ Ooh. Let me see. And there was Cindy Crawford’s teenage model daughter with a messy bob that grazed her chin. She looked stunning. She no longer wanted the ‘long, pretty’ hair everyone expected. Abbey Lossing at handsomefrank.com I have always had the long, pretty hair. It was something to hide behind. It was my trademark. But recently, I’d been wondering whether my hair isn’t a little ridiculous. I could have grown children and varicose veins, but instead I grew my hair. I’m stuck. As it’s dyed black, and given I’ve had a facelift, I’m often mistaken for Michael Jackson. How much better to be mistaken for a supermodel. And so it is on Friday afternoon I’m at a salon in Knightsbridge. My hairdresser’s name is Simon. ‘I am about to show you a photo on my iPad,’ I say, gravely revealing it. ‘Please don’t laugh.’ He doesn’t laugh, but says he thinks it will suit me and make me ‘look younger. Long hair can drag your face down a bit.’ I almost stab him with his own scissors, but instead, having just browsed Elle, which had a coverline about, ‘Women paying to look older’, I merely snap, ‘I don’t want to look younger.’ He wields his scissors, and a large hank of hair falls to the floor, as though I’ve been scalped. I can’t help but think, ‘I probably grew that hair when I had my dogs Hilda and Sam and the cats.’ He keeps going, while I keep saying, ‘Do you want another look at the photo? Are you sure it’s not shorter than hers?’ ‘No, it looks a bit different as you have a different-shaped chin.’ I get back to my hotel, Kettner’s in Soho. Now part of the trendy Soho House group, it used to be a Pizza Express, and in 1984 I’d interviewed a male model over a Fiorentina, trying to get him to go out with me. (He turned out to be gay.) I suddenly feel my spirits drop. All those decades of trying, of stress and longing and work and backing the wrong horse. And here I am. Single. Old. But at least I have new hair. Perhaps I can now be a different person, too. Yay! I go up to the room, shower and start to trowel on make-up, given I’m meeting David for dinner. I haven’t told him about the hair. I send my assistant Nic a selfie, taken in the bathroom mirror as though I’m Kylie Jenner. ‘It looks great! You look so much younger,’ she tells me. I go down to the bar. ‘It looks fantastic!’ the girls at reception twitter. David turns up and does a double take. ‘Wow! Oh my God, you look amazing!’ He sits. He’s in a black jacket over a white T-shirt and jeans. His hair is short, combed. The room is dark, too. I actually fancy him. ‘You should have had it cut years ago,’ he says. ‘It’s like I’m on a date with a different woman.’ We have dinner, then go up to my room. He literally tears off my clothes, when we all know I like to hang things nicely. I’m a bit annoyed. The non-sex for months, then this, is implying my long hair was putting him off. So I say, ‘You seem to be under the mistaken impression that women are not visually stimulated. Have a think about what I mean while you go downstairs for a fag.’ ‘Oh, I know what you mean. That as I’ve tried a bit, we’ve had sex.’ ‘Yes.’ His usual crumpled T-shirt, big beard and slippers as outerwear are never a turn-on. ‘Do you think I look a bit like Kaia Gerber?’ I asked him. I’d shown him the photo over dinner. Explained. I think there was a diagram at one point. ‘Oh, you mean Cyndi Lauper’s daughter?’ I give up. I feel like Fleabag’s sister, who took a photo to her hairdresser and exited resembling a pencil. The next morning, I get a cab to King’s Cross. The taxi driver angles his mirror to look at me, then switches on his intercom as we pull into the station. ‘I love your work,’ he says. ‘How d’you know it’s me? I’ve just had my hair cut – I look different.’ ‘Of course it’s you. Your debit card has been declined.’ RELATED ARTICLESMORE FROM AUTHOR Liz Jones In which I m turfed out on to the street Liz Jones In which I m torn between two men Liz Jones In which I have a birthday date DON' T MISS Fiona Bruce Sometimes I struggle not to cry November 14, 2021 17 beautiful 2021 diaries to help you to look forward to December 4, 2020 Why women leave men for women What’ s fuelling the rise of April 28, 2019 Hollywood veteran Laura Linney on plastic surgery friendship and her stellar July 3, 2017 You can shop the khaki jumpsuit from Holly Willoughby’ s new M& S July 17, 2019 The secrets and lies behind this happy family photo April 11, 2021 It’ s cocktail hour Olly Smith’ s cocktail recipes and Eleanor Maidment s canapé November 14, 2021 BBC One has revealed its Christmas TV schedule and there’ s lots December 2, 2020 YOU Beauty Box August Reviews August 1, 2017 Rome has been named the cheapest major city to visit in August 7, 2019 Popular CategoriesFood2704Life2496Fashion2240Beauty1738Celebrity1261Interiors684 Sign up for YOUMail Thanks for subscribing Please check your email to confirm (If you don't see the email, check the spam box) Fashion Beauty Celebrity Life Food Privacy & Cookies T&C Copyright 2022 - YOU Magazine. All Rights Reserved