The fact that I have not seen a TV or magazine advert extolling the virtues of such and such a product for controlling the problem of split ends for nearly a decade would suggest that this condition has now been confined to the annals of medical history. Did someone find a cure for it? I never read about it in the Lancet. Surely such a discovery would make that person a shoe-in for a Nobel prize for Medicine.
I contemplate this weighty issue as I examine the appalling state of my nasal hair. Yes, I know I should really get out more, only it is raining and I don't 'do' rain unless I have to. Have I really gone that grey? Why are my eyebrows and armpits still dark when the rest of my body hair is grey (You will have to take my word on that fact)? Could I end up looking like Alastair Darling – God, please do not make me look like AD – I'll dye my hair green if you do.
To return to my original question – There was a time when the social faux pas of split ends was only surpassed by that other heady issue, Dandruff – and boy did the advertisers love to get under our skins by harping on about these subjects. For years I thought that dandruff was a by-product of friction between strands of hair (OK, I never claimed to be the brightest candle in the church). As a teenager my black school blazer was constantly coated in a layer of snow. Why didn't these white particles emanate from my nose whenever I sneezed? In hindsight I guess that an avalanche from my hair resulted every time I did, so an accompanying blast from the schnoz might be considered to be an overkill. It was only years later that I learned that dandruff was a skin condition that by coincidence happened to appear on one's scalp.
Maybe hair conditions go in cycles, much as washing powders and the like. I grew up in the era of hair gels and perfumed anti-dandruff treatments. Where hair was supposed to remain in place no matter what the weather condition, people washed their locks in natural brooks and no one in their right mind would contemplate taking a shower using a separate shampoo and conditioner. Farrah Fawcett gave us all the volume, bounce and the windswept look. Since then we have been treated to different phases of stiffness, freshness, herbal, organic, medicated, mineral extracts, strengtheners, thickeners, de-tanglers and de-stressers. Currently the buzz words seem to be 'luxurious' and 'lustre', with manufacturers keen to market the idea of routinely dying your hair in an effort to make it 'shine' or 'radiate'. OK Cheryl Cole, Davina Macall, David Ginola, Penelope Cruz et al's locks may glisten like a mirror under studio lights, shimmering like blown corn by an industrial sized fan but ask yourself – is the product they promote really worth it?
Thinking of my father, and my grandfather for that matter, their concept of gentleman's grooming consisted of a safety razor, a comb, a toothbrush, toothpaste, coal tar soap, a shaving brush, talcum powder, a small bottle of Old Spice (for special occasions) and a tub of Brylcreem. I can't recall either of them owning any deodorant or anti-perspirant (either can or stick) though I guess they did use something as they were both fairly active workers and I don't remember either of them as being particularly pungent.
I don't think my attitude has differed so much from theirs. My hair having been subjected to years of abuse through noxious green fixing gel by my over-enthusiastic mother I choose to leave what remains of my hair to flourish or flounder as nature intented, apart from a little assistance from whichever brand of shampoo is on special offer at the supermarket this week. I remain faithful to my trusty safety razor despite the injuries it has inflicted upon me over the years. Personal hygiene demands I use an anti-perspirant and toothpaste and my dentist has convinced me of the benefits of mouthwash (something I readily agreed to on grounds that I am not prepared to argue with someone who has the capability of inflicting so much pain). In addition to soap I also use shower gel, perhaps because my forebears were more used to taking baths than they were showers. I can't remember the last time I used talcum powder and I would hesitate to think how old some of the few after shaves I possess are. In truth, the fact that I keep them in the bathroom cabinet is more a question of staking out my territory, which is forever under threat from my wife's increasing collection of artifacts that now rivals a Superdrug stockroom.
I am sure that there are those who will be horrified by my lack-lustre collection of toiletries. I don't frequent the gym as often as I would wish these days though for some guys it would seem that conveying their collection of essential grooming tools is a more strenuous workout than an hour or so of dumbbells and treadmills.
The very thought of moisturisers, flossing, waxing, manicures and pedicures turns my stomach; As for ex-foliating? Seeing hair growth from one's ears or nose is not particularly pleasant I would agree, but what is the point of waxing or any of the other overrated treatments. What is the attraction of a ‘Brazilian’ or a 'Back and Crack'? Why suffer the pain when there is so little to be gained?
Is it a generational thing? Are we all being hoodwinked by the consumerist society or am I just a natural born wimp with a low threshold of personal vanity?
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