Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

To Baldly Go

• Stuart Bailie
• 22 May 07, 10:17 AM

Twenty years ago was the ΅®Second Summer of Love΅―, when loads of English ravers got lost in Ibiza with house music and mood-elevating drugs. They returned home with enormous smiles, gaudy T-shirts and flared pants. A lot of sentimental words have been written about the era, but few people remember the strange side-effects for bald men.

Suddenly, it was cool to have a shiny napper. During my occasional forays into clubland, I would be stopped by ecstatic ladies who wanted to stroke my head. For the most part, I tolerated this strange request. They were having a good time, so why bum them out? And so I would take a seat and let them have some sensory fun. It was a touchy feely era, and a bit of extra attention wasn΅―t so bad.

Many of the acts, such as Orbital, were also slap-heads. This was great for me, as youth culture has generally looked at the baldy with distain. Paul McCartney famously sang ΅°when I get older, losing my hair, many years from now΅±. But what happens when your thatch starts to thin at 16?

I tried to comb over the issue and then hid the evidence under a baseball hat before finally getting the clippers and going naked. Around the same time, I met my future wife, who belonged to that subset of the female population that is drawn to expansive scalps. I will never understand her fascination for Phil Collins. Isn΅―t that illegal?

Anyway, they say that a baldness cure is imminent. The wife is worried. She thinks I may lose my good looks. Personally, I fancy cultivating all the hairstyles I΅―ve missed out on: Mohawk, flat-top, French crop and even a Hoxton fin. Friends, I may even manage a mullet.

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