The Bob Manifesto
Think you can pull off a bob? It’s not about how it frames your face—it’s about your frame of mind.
“So, are you gettin’ a lot of bobs lately?” I ask my hairdresser during my cursory bi-annual chop. “Oh yeah, they’re getting big again,” she confirms. As a nearly decade-long bob-haver, I’ve seen this trend rear its neatly coiffed head every couple of years. This most recent spike in bobs has resulted in dissections of the haircut’s essence, as evidenced by the virality of the “fuck ass bob.” After reading several hard-hitting think pieces attempting to define the you-know-it-when-you-see-it essence of “fuck assery,” one thing became abundantly clear: bobs have far more to do with a general vibe than the cut itself.
People often say the success of a haircut lives or dies on the hill of “face shapes” or “jawlines,” but I would argue that the merits of a bob are less a matter of quantifiable aesthetics and more of a frame of mind. So before you get a bob, you must ask yourself, do I have the personality of a “bob girl”? Can I handle the weight of the expectations placed on the bob community? Am I too whimsical to have a bob? Not whimsical enough? Do I enjoy the suffocating embrace of turtlenecks? What is my knowledge of the Dewey Decimal system? If you are seriously considering this haircut, I am here to outline what it takes to have the emotional and physical constitution of a “bob girl.”
You aren’t the main character. Sorry, but if you suffer from an excess of main character syndrome, you shouldn’t have a bob. Protagonists don’t have bobs unless they are children (i.e., Dora the Explorer and LazyTown). If you watch carefully, every teen movie has a supporting character—usually just left of center—with a bob. She is typically the foil to her more free-spirited, long-haired friends, always crossing her arms and saying things like, “This doesn’t sound like such a great idea, guys.” Sure, she’ll roll her eyes, but she’s secretly along for the ride, often using her “bookish” skills to get her more impulsive friends out of trouble.
Whimsy must be tempered with malaise. From 1920s flappers to French new wave girls, bobs have always paired best with a cigarette and a work-hard-play-hard attitude. She’s provocative yet restrained, playful yet sharp, and for some reason, I always imagine her saying, “Now you see here, mister,” in a mid-Atlantic accent. A key component of a bob girl’s personality is that she doesn’t take shit from anyone. Sure, she’s a hoot at a party, maybe even a touch whimsical, but she does not suffer fools lightly. Explaining this to a friend, she asked, “Well, what about Amelie? She’s French, but wouldn’t she be too whimsical?” Good point. Her whimsy is more tied to her micro-bangs than her bob, but her deviousness and stubborn attitude fit the profile well enough. (Don’t get me started on quirky bangs, that’s its own article.)
You are sexually inscrutable. The bob is one of the few haircuts that serves both the boardroom and bedroom. Bobs exist on the spectrum between Weimar Republic dominatrix and Midwestern librarian—versatile, yet universally unapproachable. A bob girl is rarely the love interest in a film unless they are set against “someone who likes a challenge.” What’s the challenge? Breaking through a bob girl’s emotional recalcitrance, desire for independence, and blunt honesty. A bob worn by a love interest is cinematic shorthand for “you can’t have her.” Here are the bob-havers in cinema history that should win an award for best-supporting unattainable bob girl: Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction, Gwyneth Paltrow in The Royal Tenenbaums, Michele Pfieffer in Scarface, Catherine Zeta-Jones in Chicago, Nastassja Kinski in Paris, Texas, and Cyd Cherisse in Singin’ in the Rain.
You value independence above all else. Bob girls are the type-A equivalent of free-spirits in that they cannot be tethered. You would think someone who turns up their nose at the frivolity and excess of long hair would desire a life of stable domesticity, but not a bob girl. She is on her own path. She has passions and ambitions that she doesn’t want to be derailed by something as quotidian as “love.” A shorter haircut is a great way to signal to the world that you don’t pander to male sexuality—bonus points if you are using short hair to queer-code yourself (*cough* Velma *cough*).
Bobs for men. First of all, any man with a bob is automatically either a sociopath or a man committed to medieval war reenactments. I know I’m talking a lot about bob girls, but that is only because the “bob guy” is too simple of a formula. The formula is: brunette man bob = villain, blonde man bob = dumb jock. On the brunette team, our patron saints would be Lord Farquad from Shrek and Anton Chigurh from No Country for Old Men. On the blonde team, we have Prince Adam from He-Man and John Smith from Pocahontas (although this is arguably just a bouncy mullet).
If you have read the above and still feel like you have what it takes to be a “bob personality,” please take this solemn oath before you go to the salon:
I will not disgrace the bob community by asking to speak to a manager.
I will always wear a turtleneck on a first date. (When it is above 80 degrees, a mock neck is suitable.)
I will be bedroom in the boardroom and boardroom in the bedroom.
I am not putting my hair behind my ears to be coquettish; I am simply getting it out of my face.
I will not engage in tomfoolery or whimsy unless I am creating a distraction for my friends while they carry out a complicated mission.
I will remember to put sunscreen on the back of my neck.
If my hairstylist cuts my bob shorter in the back than the front, I solemnly accuse them of bob defamation.
I will spend at least 1–3 hours a month pouring over a microfiche at the library.
I will not smile with teeth no matter how many times my mother asks.
I will always have a surprisingly firm handshake.
In conversation, I will be as blunt as my haircut.