Men, of course, don’t like them

SARAH VINE, 49

AT first my pixie cut was born out of necessity, rather than style choice. At 16, what I really wanted was long, thick, bouncy, flicky-flicky hair; what I got was a threadbare covering more prone to static than ‘just stepped out of the salon’ swish. If you have thin, straight hair, you discover that the longer you wear it, the sadder it looks. Cut it short, by contrast, and you give a natural lift to the roots.

A good pixie cut also draws attention to the eyes and the shape of the face.

Men, of course, don’t much like them. (I like to think my husband Michael was the exception, but was too polite to say).

Perhaps that’s because they tend to be associated with strong women who don’t have time for the fripperies of femininity — scary women, even, like Joan of Arc and unapologetic feminists.

Perhaps that is why, when I was younger and pixies were not fashionable, people assumed I was a lesbian. This always amused me, especially since all the lesbians I know have long hair. A pixie conveys a sense of urgency, as if to say: ‘I’m not the sort of woman who has time to waste on my hair.’

The irony is that a good pixie can be just as high-maintenance as long hair, since you have to have it cut every six weeks. When my own hair finally became too thin to be allowed out on its own and I started wearing a hairpiece about five years ago, I had to switch to a longer style.

I missed my pixie. It was easy to wash, required virtually no styling and dried in seconds. If I could go back to it I’d do so in a heartbeat.