I'd like to be the romantic lead one day, but I've got to grow my hair first.
In the end, punk inevitably burned itself out and acted as a bridge across which the New Romantics could sashay in their chiffon and glossy hair.
I colour my hair mousy brown and I wear makeup only on stage. I use Laura Mercier - something called Biscuit, I think. I run one tiny sponge over my face and cover the red blotches. If I've got some rouge, I'll bung it on my mouth and cheeks.
When I grew up, you needed to have straight hair. It's symbolic of needing to be like everyone else, needing to look like everyone else. And what that meant was looking like the dominant ruling class in America.
With confidence, I think anyone can get a dress and make it their own. I don't think you should have it off the runway and wear it like they want you to wear it. You know, with their hair and makeup - their woman. I just think it's boring. You have to make it your own. That's what fashion is all about.
My hair is a safety net for me, so I love to have it down and full and relaxed.
I liked to hang around my mom's beauty salon, watching her do hair.
I have a mother who never took no for an answer when it came to her creative pursuits. She started a hair salon in her spare bedroom and four years later had 30 employees.
I don't know why, but women in a hair salon share their deepest secrets.
My parents owned a hair salon, so I learned a few tricks there. I can cut people's hair - if they let me.
I couldn't believe just how emotional I was about the London Olympics. Before the Games even started, I was reading a newspaper sitting in a hair salon and my mom looked over at me and I was just sobbing, because something about seeing the rings and hearing the athletes' excitement and just kind of knowing exactly what they were going through.
Our massive sampling campaigns have been some of the largest in the professional hair care industry and were the foundation to building our distribution to 30,000-plus doors.
I knew I had to be on stage. I always felt like there was something bigger and better for me. If not that, I would be a hair stylist for sure. I almost enrolled at Vidal Sassoon hair academy in Santa Monica.
I saturate freshly washed hair with thickening spray (R+Co). Then, using a Denman/styler brush and my Parlux, I brush and blow-dry the hair all over my head, in every direction, until it's 80 percent dry. This gives atomic body and a great foundation for styling in the morning.
I wear pink on Saturdays for breast cancer, and I wear blue on Sundays. I'm superstitious. At the Evian tournament in 2010, in which I came in second, I wore baby blue on a Sunday. And ever since then, I've worn it every Sunday. Puma sponsors me, so I wear all their outfits in bright colors. I wear matching hair ribbons, too.
I first read 'The Scarlet Letter' when I was fifteen. In it, I found a familiar vision of religious intolerance to the one around me. I grew up in the 1980s, when televangelists, with their fluffed up hair and their tears, self-righteously denounced all kinds of sinners, reserving a special, full-throated enthusiasm for gay people.
I am fine with the fact that some of my hair is gray. If it was all gray overnight, that would be a scary thing.
When you own a pair of haircutting scissors, you cut your own hair constantly.
I feel most comfortable in an old pair of jeans, Converse, and a man's jersey. My best friend cuts my hair with kitchen scissors.
In time we grow older, we grow wiser, we grow smarter, and we're better. And I feel like I'm becoming more seasoned, although I don't have my salt-and-pepper hair.
