Thursday, August 12, 2010
The Times Weren't the Only Thing Changing
By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member
I'm so lucky to have grown up in such a magical time. The early 60's found me just entering my teens and thanks to an older brother and sister, I'd been listening to rock 'n' roll for some time. It was amazing! Every time you turned on the radio there was something new and exciting to hear, ranging from the early days of Rock ‘n’ Roll with Buddy Holly and Gene Vincent to the 1960’s with The Beach Boys and The Four Seasons.
Rock ‘n’ Roll and dancing: We learned to twist with Chubby Checker, and I remember doing the stroll at high school sock hops, trying to maneuver into the line so I'd "stroll" with that pretty girl that hardly knew I existed! Elvis was still king and girl groups were in their heyday. And fashions were changing as well.
Me? I was a greaser, through and through, with tight jeans and pointed toe boots with "taps" on the bottom for making noise when walking in the school hallways. Of course, that was against the rule but hey, I was a rebel! Now, no self-respecting greaser would be seen without their slicked back D.A. and a comb outlined in the pocket of those tight jeans. Everything was "cool" until THAT day, don't remember which one exactly, but it must have been one specific day because it happened so fast.
We were invaded! Some guys from England took over the musical charts! Overnight it happened! And these guys had long hair and heaven forbid, bangs! What were we to do? Well I know what I did. I listened to my brother and let him give me a "Beatle" cut!
I've made bigger mistakes in my life but at that time, this was definitely top five. If he would have placed a puddin' bowl on my head and cut it would've looked better, but he convinced me it was the way all the "cool" kids his age were wearing their hair. Okay, if I'd been just a bit wiser, I'd have noticed that he wasn't wearing his that way.
Without the D.A. the whole greaser look was history for me, so for school the next day I tried a new look and wore white slacks and a mohair sweater. I was now Mod, or Collegiate as it was called in my area of the world. However, there was still that brotherly haircut to deal with. The reactions? The kids were cruel, but when the teachers joined in, I definitely knew something was wrong. When I arrived home, Mom gave me the money to go to a barber and get my brother’s barbering job "fixed". It's still a funny little memory with me.
A few years went by; we were listening to folk rock and heavy metal and, we got groovy. Haircuts? They were a thing of the past; grew my hair until it was in the middle of my back, making me a full fledged "long haired hippy weirdo freak" and proud of it! Still proud of it. And today, as I run my fingers through the skin on my head, I'd give anything to have that puddin' bowl haircut back.
Written by Paul Dugan, Guest Groovy Reflections Blogger