'RIP to my glorious lockdown mullet'
Born from lockdown, killed by Christmas - this is the story of my Samson-like mullet enjoyed by everyone except mum.
The first phase of said mullet was more reverse 'frullet', crafted in my girlfriend's backyard at the start of Sydney's first COVID lockdown in March last year.
A combination of boredom and isolation from the outside world saw a mullet boom and I wasn't going to miss out on wearing an icon that, like most legendary things, returned in a big way.
As the mullet continued to grow, so did the compliments - and not just at the pub.
But work was the real litmus test. How would my bosses and the higher-ups react to the now shoulder-length growth as more people started filtering back into the office? It was universally accepted - even by the deputy editor.
I felt great and was looking after my hair for the first time in years: shampooing and conditioning every second day, even blow-drying on the odd occasion. I was proud of it.
Enter my mum, Kath.
Not satisfied with her second-hand 2010 Ottolenghi cookbook for Christmas, she wanted to take my hair.
A call from my Aunty demanding it go on the eve of our COVID Christmas sealed the mullet's fate, my girlfriend ending six glorious months.
Do I regret it? Absolutely not. Would I do it again? Absolutely.
As for Waverley's mullet ban? Please, it's just hair. I understand about standards at schools like Waverley but the world is a different place after 2020.
Let the kids grow ... their hair.
Originally published as RIP to my glorious lockdown mullet