Vanity, Vanity

October 28, 2024

You know the scene in The Princess Diaries when Mia Thermopolis shows up at the Genovian embassy and Paulo walks in with his assistants and screams when he sees her, then takes off her glasses, cuts and straightens her hair and she comes out of there looking like a princess?

I had a similar experience this week.

I did essentially nothing this week. It was so dreary outside!! I struggled to leave the house. I read three books. I skipped nearly all my classes (don’t worry, I still watched them online, but from the comfort of my pajamas and my couch). I rotated between eating tortellini soup and lentil chili each day. I only did about one productive-ish thing each day. So, when Saturday rolled around, I decided I needed to make up for my week of sloth and get stuff done. I also decided it was past time to cut my hair.

I woke up Saturday to it raining hard as ever, braided back my bangs and threw my hair into a messy bun, put on my overalls, then set out to spend some time studying at a café and run some errands.

I caught up on some of the classes that I missed, I went to a couple shops to get some essentials, and on the way home I walked past a hair salon and decided to book an appointment. To my delight and dismay, they said they had availability right then. My bags were taken from my hands, my umbrella was taken and put away, they shrugged my raincoat off my shoulders and hung it up, then herded me to a chair in the back of the room. Two women took my glasses off, undid my braided bun, and grimaced at the greasy mess of hair on my head.

They washed my hair diligently and told me we needed to cut off a good 8cm. 30 minutes later I had the whole salon gazing at me through the mirror thinking they just witnessed a miracle. Like any early 2000s romcom, once my hair was down and blown out and my glasses were off, people gawked.

The woman ringing me up after asked why I was in Italy and I told her I was a student, to which she said her 21-year-old son, who she thought was a bit older than me, was studying at my school. I chose to take that as a compliment of my skincare routine and youthful glow, but I think she meant it as “nobody your age should be this bashful and un-put together." Whoops.

Italians are so stylish and demure when they leave the house, so I usually try to be too. But some days I just can’t.

A similar story: the other day I went on a run in the rain, and at the end of it my hair was so knotted that I ran straight to Sephora, soaking wet and sweaty, to buy a hair mask. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as openly judged as I did in that store. The lady at the checkout, while raising an eyebrow, threw in a free perfume sample for me. Walking home from the store, humming along to the Taylor Swift playing in my airpods and trying to hold my head high despite being a bit embarrassed about my running clothes and ponytail being paired with a Sephora bag, a pigeon tried to attack me. I made eye contact with it as it flew straight at my head, yelped, and sprinted away with my hands covering my head. When I stopped and dramatically gulped down a breath of air, two cute Italian boys walked by looking at me while very clearly trying not to laugh. But I did. I covered my face with my hands in the middle of the street and started cracking up as I walked past them and into the safety of my house.

I miss America, where you can leave the house with wet hair, in leggings and a sweatshirt, and nobody bats an eye.

I guess there was really no point to this post other than to say that the vain Italians have humbled me greatly.

Have a good week everyone!!