Are your breasts high? Is your ponytail flush? Is there ample pep in your step? I can’t help you with all of the above—gravity is a beast, and hence the sagging of breasts and pep. But I am here to address the ponytail and its flushness. Because we are living in the golden age of hair.
Not just any hair. Virgin hair of uncommon smoothness, dip-dyed and applied with a keratin bond no bigger than a grain of rice. The result is a head of hair so abundant, you could safely call it “lush,” if not “flush.” It blows like an unfurling flag in the wind. Or, if you’re Beyoncé, it blows next to an unfurling flag. Onstage at MetLife Stadium or FedExField, you can flip your head over with abandon and find it re-settles without missing a beat. It’s also capable of resting placidly at the Harvard Business School’s Baker Library, attracting a mate 10 years your senior. It can do all this without giving itself away for what it is: a foreign object more fleeting than youth.
