A new leaf

The way we choose to present ourselves to the world runs more than skin deep. Remy Rippon discovers the link between significant changes in our lives and tweaks we make to our appearance.

The way we choose to present ourselves to the world runs more than skin deep. Discover the link between significant changes in our lives and the tweaks we make to our appearance.

Remember that moment in the 1998 film, Sliding Doors when Gwyneth Paltrow’s character, Helen, returns home to find her boyfriend in bed with another woman? In what may go down as one of the most seminal breakup makeovers in modern cinema, Helen’s brown shoulder-length tresses are lopped into a dramatic blonde crop and so emerges Helen 2.0: confident, self-assured, reborn.

The idea that we mark significant internal shifts with an outward expression isn’t just a device reserved for the big screen. Chrissy Teigen sent Instagram into a proverbial flap when she debuted sorbet-pink hair following a particularly tumultuous 2020 culminating in a sudden and heartbreaking pregnancy loss. And ahead of last year’s Emmy’s, in the midst of the lockdown, comedian, actor and author Tiffany Haddish did the unexpected by shaving off her shoulder-length hair which she broadcast to her six million-plus followers. “Good morning universe, today is the day … I’m cutting my hair off,” she proclaimed on a live-streamed IGTV.

In this period of re-emergence – however stop-start it may be – there’s an undeniable appetite for discovery and creativity which naturally extends to the way we present ourselves to those around us. “People really want to feel that they come out of a hard situation better than they entered it, that they’ve learned something and that they’ve changed in some way that’s meaningful,” says University of Queensland associate professor Fiona Barlow whose research spans social psychology and body image.

Playful swatches of eye make-up, the return of epic buzz cuts and statement-making mullets are just a handful of reasons designers and social commentators alike are comparing this cultural precipice to that of the Roaring Twenties. “If I had to speculate, I think we want to separate ourselves from the pain or the difficulty we’ve been experiencing and start afresh,” offers Barlow of this age of self-discovery. “Almost like a little butterfly emerging from a cocoon or the like.”

Philadelphia-based counsellor Megan Stitz – who led a 2013 study into changes in appearance in the wake of stressful events – says that seemingly superficial outward changes are more emblematic than we may think. “I think human beings respond really well to ritual and symbolic physical actions,” observes Stitz. “So you might be experiencing something abstract and internal and to make that real you’ve done something physical in terms of how you’re manifesting it, so it’s a nice feedback loop.”

If your post-pandemic to-do list consists of a bold haircut, an experimental colour change, a wardrobe refresh or even a cosmetic ‘tweakment’, you’re not alone. “It’s about signalling that this is the new version that has grown and has coped, and if I just come out looking exactly the same, how would you know that I survived?” hypothesises Melbourne-based psychologist and personal development coach Sarah Godfrey, who once marked a milestone birthday with an impulsive trip to a tattoo parlour while holidaying in Singapore. “To me it was to personally symbolise the more reckless, risk-taking, curious version of me that’s always underneath but was very strong when I was younger,” she explains. “I can tell you, my family was most shocked.”

It seems, while those fortunate enough to have had more time to amble over seemingly minor decisions – like what to binge on Netflix, or how to cultivate a sourdough starter – a sudden urge to change up appearances can mark a recognisable pre-pandemic feeling: impulsiveness. British actor Iris Law, daughter of Sadie Frost and Jude Law, who shaved her head for an upcoming role in Pistol, [a TV series about legendary rock band the Sex Pistols], recently told UK Vogue of the freeing nature of such a headstrong decision: “I wanted to do something that felt liberating. The day I shaved my head, I changed my life. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

For others, abandoning longstanding habits is liberating in itself. For Vampire Diaries actor Kat Graham, that meant marking four months without straightening her naturally coiled tresses with a self-described ‘fro coming-out party’ on her social media feed.

“I know there are a lot of young girls right now that need to know that they are beautiful and that they don’t have to change who they are to be accepted and valued,” she professed to almost seven million followers.

Elsewhere, even as hair salons intermittently reopened, many women no longer felt the need for their monthly colour appointment. “We see some appearance changes that are just a function of the situation really, and of having the latitude to do that,” Barlow says.

Ultimately, it reveals that there’s subliminal meaning behind our self-care rituals. “These sorts of things probably aren’t going to fundamentally alter the way that we engage with the world. It’s not like the movie She’s All That where the makeover changes everything,” Barlow says. “But at the same time, it might be a fun way to sort of mark the end of a really hard period and something that just gives us a little bit of a boost as we go into this new period.”

“I think we want to separate ourselves from the pain or the difficulty we’ve been experiencing and start afresh … like a butterfly emerging”