Hair Quotes
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on having a gay child And the Three Wise Drag Queens would come, bearing gifts of 1000-thread-count sheets, hair products by Frédéric Fekkai, and a copy of the Immaculate Collection.
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You know, I do not think it is necessarily looks, I do not think I am the prettiest girl... Everyone has something that is their asset, some have the hair, some have the cheekbones, others have the lips. But once you know what is your asset, then you should capitalize on it.
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I think the '90s is the reason why I recently had to find natural haircare products to allow my hair to grow. That was a time where they were processing your hair, and it was a time when African-American women wanted that straight hair.
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I refuse to dress 'hot' for Halloween, 'cause I always have to have makeup and hair and look cute for my job. So on Halloween, I either go gory or weird or funny.
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And as for you, stop having curly hair!
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I painted the Astor-Victoria sign seven times, and it's 395 feet wide and 58 feet high. I dropped a gallon of purple paint on Seventh Avenue and 47th Street from 15 stories up and didn't kill anybody. I dropped a brush at Columbus Circle. It fell on a guy's camel-hair coat.
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I cut my hair myself and colour it. I know everybody in the hairdressing business despairs of me, but it's so much easier to do it yourself.
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I am running into a new year and the old years blow back like a wind that I catch in my hair like strong fingers like all my old promises and it will be hard to let go of what I said to myself about myself when I was sixteen and twenty-six and thirty-six but I am running into a new year and I beg what i love and I leave to forgive me.
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I guess you should approach the roles differently when they're actual people who have been, this is the difference. Getting the accent exact, or the hair exact is less important in a situation like this.
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I strongly prefer to keep my hair loose and wavy, leaving it as natural as possible.
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The Death of Advertising? I think that's in the book of Revelation. It's the day when people everywhere become satisfied with their weight, their hair, their skin, their wardrobe, and their aroma.
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Grooming-wise, it is now a constant battle as I progressively turn into my father. I have to keep on top of ear and nose hair - things you never believe will happen to you. Suddenly I have a shaving brush in my ear and I don't know where it's come from, and the more hair I take the out, the more it surges back.
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I love to see old women. I love wrinkles. I love gray hair.
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I am extremely close to my grandma. Growing up, she would always do my hair; she was always the one who would make me chocolate milk or rice when I came home.
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I rarely use product in my hair, and when I do I have no idea which ones, nor does it matter all that much to me. And I can't remember the last time I even used a comb, much less carried one around.
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I had an idea for a story about a young woman who was living with people who were different, not just superficially different - such as hair colour, or eye colour, or skin colour - but different in some significant way.
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In particular I want to talk about natural black hair, and how it's not just hair. I mean, I'm interested in hair in sort of a very aesthetic way, just the beauty of hair, but also in a political way: what it says, what it means.
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At eurovision, The Armenians are killing me with their hair and especially the fierce cateye liner! LOVE! I am part Armenian, in fact.
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I practically lived in the woods when I was a kid, avoiding grown-ups and my dysfunctional family, pretending I was half-wolf, a feral child who napped in nests made out of ferns, ate wild blueberries, and wove sticks and feathers into her hair.
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I still miss the days when a haircut was just a haircut. It was only your mates you had to face. Now there's a whole industry centred around people analysing your 'look'. I just cannot understand how anyone could get so worked up by... hair.
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Ronald Regan doesn't dye his hair - he's just prematurely orange.
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Being in school, whenever I laughed or smiled, I would turn to find someone staring at me with this terrible hatred and disgust. I had to control everything - control my voice, control my facial expressions, control my hair and my clothes, and where I walked and where I sat - at every moment. I think that drove me to terrible anxiety.
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When it comes to lingerie, there are no rules. I feel the sexiest when I'm myself, no hair, no makeup.
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You let the hair down, and that's when the wild man comes out.
