Simspiration 4.8.11 Styling hair in front of a mirror
“Alright, Quinn, the first thing you need to know about the awesome fauxhawk is that it has magical powers. So, because of that, the styling of it involves not only ritual, but secrecy as well. Nobody can know how it is all done. At least not until you have a son of your own. Then you can decide whether or not he’s worthy of the secret. Are we clear on that?”
Quinn nodded at his father and smiled. “Like you did with Vaughn.”
“That’s right. Like I did with Vaughn. Okay, so the first rule of fauxhawk is: Never tell anyone the secret of fauxhawk, unless you are telling your own son. And now for the second rule of fauxhawk: Never let anyone see you without a fauxhawk. It is to become part of your identity. Got that?”
Quinn nodded again.
“And now for the third and final rule of fauxhawk: You are a stud when you have a fauxhawk. You are manly, virile, and most importantly, good looking when you have a fauxhawk.”
“Not awkward looking?” Quinn asked softly.
Rhys clenched his jaw, his lips in a thin line. “No. Not at all. Manliness. Studliness. Virility. Did you hear the word ‘awkward’ in there?”
“No.”
“That’s because it doesn’t exist when you have a fauxhawk. Didn’t I say it had magical powers? Nobody will ever say that you look awkward again when you have a fauxhawk. So, are you ready?” Quinn nodded and smiled tremulously. “Okay, good,” Rhys continued. “To the bathroom!”
As the two of them walked to the bathroom, Rhys placed a hand on his small son’s shoulder. His face held a mixed expression of sadness and worry. When Quinn looked up at him, though, his expression slipped into a confident grin, which Quinn returned. Rhys cast a glance down the stairs and he heard Eden talking on the phone. He knew her well enough now to hear the underlying irritation in her voice. He hoped she would tear her publicist a new asshole. What was said about Quinn on television was unacceptable.
He put on a smile and followed Quinn into the bathroom. “Okay,” he said, “first things first. Music. You need to have music.” He flipped on the radio and music began to blare loudly.
“I just woohooed and it felt so good! A woman let me put my pixels inside of her!”
He hastily changed the song and raised an eyebrow at Quinn. “Or, you know, whatever other song you might like.” A song by Elvis came through the speakers. “Perfect. Okay, now the next thing you need to do is make sure you start with wet hair.” He went to the shower, grabbed the removable shower head, and turned on the water. He then directed the water over his hair, taking care not to get any on the floor. He ran his fingers though his hair vigorously, soaking his entire head and destroying the fauxhawk he already had in place. When he was done, he blindly reached for a towel and scrubbed it over his hair. When he pulled the towel off, his soggy hair was standing up in messy corkscrews. Quinn giggled at the unusual sight.
“Okay, Quinn, your turn,” Rhys said. Quinn closed his eyes, held his breath, and bent his head into the shower. Rhys ran the warm water over the boy’s red hair and gently ran his fingers through the slight curls Quinn had. When it was wet enough, Rhys turned off the shower, dropped the towel over Quinn’s head, and rubbed the towel over it. When he was done, he grabbed his son’s still covered head and shook it gently. “Rrraaawwrrr,” he said with a mock growl, which caused Quinn to giggle underneath the towel. Rhys then whisked the towel off and looked down at Quinn’s equally messy and soggy hair.
“Alright. Now for the next part. Onto the counter. You need to be able to see yourself in the mirror. When you get bigger, you won’t need to do this. But until then…” He lifted the boy onto the counter. “Okay. Now look in the mirror because this next part is important.”
Quinn scrambled to his knees and knelt on the counter, facing the mirror, but he kept his eyes down. Rhys’ brow creased and his lips narrowed again. “You need to look in the mirror to be able to do this right.”
“But they said I was awkward looking.”
“And I said that they were wrong. Who are you going to believe? Me or them? And like I also said, you look like your mother, so it’s virtually impossible for you to be anything shy of a super mega awesome stud. Look in the mirror.” Quinn’s blue eyes met Rhys’ reflection, which smiled back at him. “Okay, so now we do model poses. Always important and you should probably start carrying around a pocket mirror so you can primp on the go when you need to.”
“Like Grandpa Spencer does? But he doesn’t have a fauxhawk.”
Rhys held up a finger. “There is a fourth rule of fauxhawk: Don’t mention Grandpa Spencer while doing your fauxhawk. It interrupts the magic.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, good. Now, watch me.” Rhys pouted his lips in an exaggerated manner, placed his hand on his hip and turned his head away from the mirror. He whipped his head back to his reflection. “Blue Steel!”
Quinn giggled and imitated Rhys. “Blue Steel!” he said with a mimicked pout.
“Good, good! You’re a natural. Okay, lets try another one.” He did an identical pout and pose. “Magnum!”
Quinn was laughing as he did the same thing. “Magnum!”
“Awesome. I knew you were a perfect man to carry on the fauxhawk tradition. Now for the next part. Grab your comb and that jar of gel over there.” Quinn did as he was directed and handed everything to Rhys. Rhys opened up the hair gel and scooped out a small amount. “You don’t need a whole lot of this,” he instructed. “Hair styling products have come a long way since I was younger. Better hold with half the mess. This specific brand,” he held the label up so Quinn could see it, “is very good and it makes your hair touchably soft. That might not be important to you now, but when you’re older and the girls are throwing themselves at you, the difference between stabby death hair and soft, suave, awesome hair, is a girl crying because you poked out her eye. Girls don’t really like having their eyes stabbed with your hair. Or other things for that matter.”
“What other things?”
“Never mind. So we take this little bit of gel and we run it through your hair like this.” He demonstrated by gently rubbing the gel in Quinn’s hair. “And then we take some of your hair like this,” he combed a section of Quinn’s hair into a point. “Always work back to front, because otherwise you’ll mess up the parts you already did and will have to start all over again. Got that?”
Quinn nodded.
“Okay. And then you take the hair dryer and turn it on low. I can’t stress that enough. It needs to be on low, otherwise it’ll dry the rest of your hair as well as ruin what you’ve already done. And you do it like so,” he demonstrated by holding the point and running the hairdryer over it. “It does help to hold it in place so it doesn’t fall down. Are you ready to try the next one on your own?”
“Yeah, I am. I think I can do it.”
“I know you can do it,” Rhys said with a smile. “Feel free to sing along with the music or do model poses while you’re doing it, by the way. The comb makes a great imaginary microphone.”
“Okay, I will!”
Rhys watched for a moment longer before grabbing some more gel and running it through his own hair, twisting and styling it expertly with the confident moves of someone who had been doing it for years.
Quinn smiled at Rhys in the mirror.
Rhys returned his smile and winked back at him.
Quinn nodded at his father and smiled. “Like you did with Vaughn.”
“That’s right. Like I did with Vaughn. Okay, so the first rule of fauxhawk is: Never tell anyone the secret of fauxhawk, unless you are telling your own son. And now for the second rule of fauxhawk: Never let anyone see you without a fauxhawk. It is to become part of your identity. Got that?”
Quinn nodded again.
“And now for the third and final rule of fauxhawk: You are a stud when you have a fauxhawk. You are manly, virile, and most importantly, good looking when you have a fauxhawk.”
“Not awkward looking?” Quinn asked softly.
Rhys clenched his jaw, his lips in a thin line. “No. Not at all. Manliness. Studliness. Virility. Did you hear the word ‘awkward’ in there?”
“No.”
“That’s because it doesn’t exist when you have a fauxhawk. Didn’t I say it had magical powers? Nobody will ever say that you look awkward again when you have a fauxhawk. So, are you ready?” Quinn nodded and smiled tremulously. “Okay, good,” Rhys continued. “To the bathroom!”
As the two of them walked to the bathroom, Rhys placed a hand on his small son’s shoulder. His face held a mixed expression of sadness and worry. When Quinn looked up at him, though, his expression slipped into a confident grin, which Quinn returned. Rhys cast a glance down the stairs and he heard Eden talking on the phone. He knew her well enough now to hear the underlying irritation in her voice. He hoped she would tear her publicist a new asshole. What was said about Quinn on television was unacceptable.
He put on a smile and followed Quinn into the bathroom. “Okay,” he said, “first things first. Music. You need to have music.” He flipped on the radio and music began to blare loudly.
“I just woohooed and it felt so good! A woman let me put my pixels inside of her!”
He hastily changed the song and raised an eyebrow at Quinn. “Or, you know, whatever other song you might like.” A song by Elvis came through the speakers. “Perfect. Okay, now the next thing you need to do is make sure you start with wet hair.” He went to the shower, grabbed the removable shower head, and turned on the water. He then directed the water over his hair, taking care not to get any on the floor. He ran his fingers though his hair vigorously, soaking his entire head and destroying the fauxhawk he already had in place. When he was done, he blindly reached for a towel and scrubbed it over his hair. When he pulled the towel off, his soggy hair was standing up in messy corkscrews. Quinn giggled at the unusual sight.
“Okay, Quinn, your turn,” Rhys said. Quinn closed his eyes, held his breath, and bent his head into the shower. Rhys ran the warm water over the boy’s red hair and gently ran his fingers through the slight curls Quinn had. When it was wet enough, Rhys turned off the shower, dropped the towel over Quinn’s head, and rubbed the towel over it. When he was done, he grabbed his son’s still covered head and shook it gently. “Rrraaawwrrr,” he said with a mock growl, which caused Quinn to giggle underneath the towel. Rhys then whisked the towel off and looked down at Quinn’s equally messy and soggy hair.
“Alright. Now for the next part. Onto the counter. You need to be able to see yourself in the mirror. When you get bigger, you won’t need to do this. But until then…” He lifted the boy onto the counter. “Okay. Now look in the mirror because this next part is important.”
Quinn scrambled to his knees and knelt on the counter, facing the mirror, but he kept his eyes down. Rhys’ brow creased and his lips narrowed again. “You need to look in the mirror to be able to do this right.”
“But they said I was awkward looking.”
“And I said that they were wrong. Who are you going to believe? Me or them? And like I also said, you look like your mother, so it’s virtually impossible for you to be anything shy of a super mega awesome stud. Look in the mirror.” Quinn’s blue eyes met Rhys’ reflection, which smiled back at him. “Okay, so now we do model poses. Always important and you should probably start carrying around a pocket mirror so you can primp on the go when you need to.”
“Like Grandpa Spencer does? But he doesn’t have a fauxhawk.”
Rhys held up a finger. “There is a fourth rule of fauxhawk: Don’t mention Grandpa Spencer while doing your fauxhawk. It interrupts the magic.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, good. Now, watch me.” Rhys pouted his lips in an exaggerated manner, placed his hand on his hip and turned his head away from the mirror. He whipped his head back to his reflection. “Blue Steel!”
Quinn giggled and imitated Rhys. “Blue Steel!” he said with a mimicked pout.
“Good, good! You’re a natural. Okay, lets try another one.” He did an identical pout and pose. “Magnum!”
Quinn was laughing as he did the same thing. “Magnum!”
“Awesome. I knew you were a perfect man to carry on the fauxhawk tradition. Now for the next part. Grab your comb and that jar of gel over there.” Quinn did as he was directed and handed everything to Rhys. Rhys opened up the hair gel and scooped out a small amount. “You don’t need a whole lot of this,” he instructed. “Hair styling products have come a long way since I was younger. Better hold with half the mess. This specific brand,” he held the label up so Quinn could see it, “is very good and it makes your hair touchably soft. That might not be important to you now, but when you’re older and the girls are throwing themselves at you, the difference between stabby death hair and soft, suave, awesome hair, is a girl crying because you poked out her eye. Girls don’t really like having their eyes stabbed with your hair. Or other things for that matter.”
“What other things?”
“Never mind. So we take this little bit of gel and we run it through your hair like this.” He demonstrated by gently rubbing the gel in Quinn’s hair. “And then we take some of your hair like this,” he combed a section of Quinn’s hair into a point. “Always work back to front, because otherwise you’ll mess up the parts you already did and will have to start all over again. Got that?”
Quinn nodded.
“Okay. And then you take the hair dryer and turn it on low. I can’t stress that enough. It needs to be on low, otherwise it’ll dry the rest of your hair as well as ruin what you’ve already done. And you do it like so,” he demonstrated by holding the point and running the hairdryer over it. “It does help to hold it in place so it doesn’t fall down. Are you ready to try the next one on your own?”
“Yeah, I am. I think I can do it.”
“I know you can do it,” Rhys said with a smile. “Feel free to sing along with the music or do model poses while you’re doing it, by the way. The comb makes a great imaginary microphone.”
“Okay, I will!”
Rhys watched for a moment longer before grabbing some more gel and running it through his own hair, twisting and styling it expertly with the confident moves of someone who had been doing it for years.
Quinn smiled at Rhys in the mirror.
Rhys returned his smile and winked back at him.