G*Nice lets you into a very male secret.
Whenever a group of men of a certain age get together and the mood is just right – everyone's relaxed, the beverages are flowing – the conversation eventually becomes very personal and the big question hits the table: "When did you first lose yours?"
The atmosphere is suddenly sparked with bravado – tentative answers are offered, some stretching of the truth is evident, ages and dates are changed – the justification in this case is to protect the guilty not the innocent. Others take this opportunity to stretch their legs, leaving the table for a phantom phone call unable to face up to the web of deception that they comb over their personal denial of the issue of the moment.
We all have skeletons in our closets, but eventually you just have to stop splitting ends and admit the truth – to yourself and to your friends.
I first lost mine, or started losing mine, when I was 28. This might seem quite a late age for some and others might have had the experience much earlier. There was a lot of self-abuse that contributed in my particular case. The eighties was a particularly free and experimental decade. I went through so many different colours and with that came many different styles and techniques – all of which were character forming and in many ways have made me the man I am today.
So I stand proud, erect and upright – and say '28'.
This was the year that I, G*NICE, first lost it – my hair that is!
Many things have changed about mens' baldness over the generations. Certainly as a teenager I, like all teenagers, was merciless and cruel towards those adults I came across who were follically-challenged. Those that suffered most were usually teachers. I still maintain they bought the ridicule upon themselves by trying to hide it in ways that I'm sure they considered to be creative and totally undetectable. But the reality is – like the truth behind US foreign policy or a big spot on your nose – no matter how you try to cover or conceal it, we can all see it as clear as the nose on your face ... magnified a thousand times because of that big red spot on the nose on your face! There was one teacher who we were convinced had one really long hair right at the top, centre of his head that he used to grease up and wind round his entire skull to create this centrifugal full head of hair (singular!). We imagined that if we pulled on the end of said hair hard enough he would spin off into oblivion like a wooden top.
And even the rich and famous with all their money and all their stylists would fall into the trap of trying to hide the obvious. Poor old Elton John, the living epitome of the fairytale, The Emperor's New Clothes. He opted for the transplant or hair plug route but all he ended up with was less of a hair do and more of a hair don't!
The problem back then was that there really were no positive role models in the media for thinning or bald men. So the big cover up seemed the only way to maintain the illusion of virility – the old Samson Complex still prevailed. Thank Gillette that times changed!
I always swore that as soon as my hair started to go I would shave it off – and pretty much I was true to my word ... but even I took an intermediate step. I first noticed the thinning of the thatch at the fringe – with my parting getting higher and higher – much like rents in the city! Luckily nature co-incided with a fashion trend of the moment in London. So I went for a style that was shaved around the back and sides with a short section on the top. It was known as a Soho Crop or alternatively a French Crop. I wore this proudly and it was the style that I had when I met my wife. She made no comment about it during the honeymoon period when other more important things were her priority (like criticising my dodgy mates or my irrational love for football). But soon it came on the agenda and my style defence of the glamorous French Crop soon got clipped when she said that the only thing remotely French about it was that it looked like a pancake! With those supporting words – it , like my mate who constantly came round to borrow money – had to go. And I haven't looked back since.
But I am totally secure and happy with how I find myself now. I don't seek any wonder cures, shunning promise-filled potions and Regain solutions, old wives tales of allowing a cow to lick my head to stimulate growth, the constant wearing of hats and caps, or worse, the temptation to have my head landscaped, or to don a ridiculous magic carpet up there. I joke that the only hair system I need to follow is the Gillette Mach 4 one and that rather than Wash & Go – I simply Go!
It's this approach that keeps me Head & Shoulders above the rest.
My philosophy is that ... I am never gonna change. I will remain as gorgeous as I am now – forever. Now if that's not a fountain of youth – I don't know what is!
