Last night I decided to do something out of character every day to enrichen my life and existence. I haven’t shaved in a while, nor have I had my hair cut in almost three weeks. So both are wearing sort of long. Which gave me an idea.
I thought, how about doing something cool with my hair. And I thought, how about doing something extraordinary with my beard? The problem is, regarding my beard, that I’ve done it all, so to speak. Besides, I thought, I haven’t been clean shaven since like 1984. So I decided to shave it all off. All.
I started with my cheeks as usual, made a pattern ala Prince, had a laugh, got out the hair trimmer and removed the beard on my chin. I haven’t seen my chin that naked for a LONG time! I went on, sweating slightly, hands getting clammy. Removed handlebar one, then handlebar two, leaving me with a Freddie Mercury moustache. It did, admittedly, look ever so slightly camp. So it had to go.
I quickly, without opening my eyes, foamed my face, getting ready for the final attack with the razor. Mentally prepared, that is. Cheeks, leaving about an inch of sideburns. Obviously. Chin. By x-handlebars. Under nose. I closed my eyes. The moment of truth.
I slowly opened one eye, closely followed by the other, not quite being able to believe the sight that met me in the mirror. I walked backwards until I hit the door on the opposite side of the room, holding my hands on my clean shaven face. I looked like… me, obviously, but the Wham! me with a few extra wrinkles and a few greys. Could easily have passed for 30! Feeling of excitement nearly overwhelmed me.
Then the hair. Instead of my usual look, I decided on the hair-down-in-eyes look. Slightly similar to the totally failed octopus-on-head look, only controlled and rough.
Overall, I was quite pleased. I looked through my closet. Found an old pair of ripped bluejeans from the 80’s, tried it on, miraculously fit, though hanging loose over butt. Okay with that though. Found navy blue shirt and put on. Had to grin at self in mirror. Actually looked as though could have been APPROACHING 30 and having turned 39 this year, this was quite a pleasing sensation.
I decided to test my new look on Kenny, so entered livingroom where he was watching his programme on telly. He heard me coming, said, “Hi, darlin’!” and gave me a quick glance before he literally fell out of his chair. “George!” he cried from behind the cushion. “F*** me sideways, you look… you look…” I was getting impatient, “I look?” He grinned, “F***in’ amazin’! Look at you!”
He was unable to keep his hands off me for the next 90 minutes so having been this successful with my American angel (huh… future song title?) I decided to give it a try in the real world. Went outside, saw a bunch of fans (a regular crown) hanging about, got in the car and drove past them. Usually this creates light hysteria, but there was nothing. I waved, they just glared at me and waved disinterested back. Was I not being recognised?! I opened the window and heard one of them say, “Who was that driving George’s car?” Success!
Dropped by management’s office, at the moment housing manager, Michelle and Shirlie. I went inside, being stopped by Michelle at the door, saying, “Excuse me, Sir, you can’t… holy s***, George!?” I shushed her, went up the stairs and saw Shirlie sitting by her desk replying to emails from my devoted fans around the world. I said, “Hi dear!” and she looked at me as though insulted, “Who do you think you’re calling d… George!? Jesus Christ! Andy! Andy!” So Andy came out of his corner office and had the same reaction my good self did when I saw myself. He backed into the office until he hit the desk and looked at me as though he’d seen a ghost. I think he mouthed something along the lines of “f***” but it was impossible to tell. I stayed around for a bit and summed up, they were all amazed and impressed with my new look.
By mid-day I was beginning to sense a 5 o’clock shadow coming, but decided to keep up my quest and see how far I could go. So I went to Sainsbury’s in Camden Town. The huge one. I’ve never been there before, for obvious reasons, and found it quite amusing pushing my little trolley around. Putting stuff in it I’m never going to consume in a million years. One lady, in her 30s, came up to me and said, “You really remind me of that George Michaels bloke, the way he looked in that group!” I said thanks. She asked if I was related, I said I might be. Then she got all excited and asked if I could hook her up with him. Well, if I could hook her up with me. I said, “You do realise I, uh, he’s gay, right?” She looked both mortified and incredibly disappointed. She asked if I was “available, then?” and muttered, “They’re all gay nowadays” when I explained that I was “gay too.” She left me alone.
By the time I got to the checkout, a chick in her 20s looked at me, dropped everything she was carrying and put her hand over her mouth. As the initial shock seemingly wore off, she picked everything back up and sauntered towards me saying, “Excuse me, uh, are you, uh…” she leant in and almost whispered, “George Michael?” I nodded. She grinned. “You look great. Love the stubble!”
I then realised, like Cinderella approaching midnight, that the magic was about to come to an end. I left the trolley, put my sunglasses on and walked out to the car that was parked on Bayham Street. When I got back home, the fans were gone (thankfully) and as the gates closed behind me I realised things would go back to normal again.
But it was fun as long as it lasted, and maybe again… someday… I’ll do it again.
Wham-Bam,
George xxx
