When I was a barber, me being extreme was how I got popular: you name it, I was drawing it on someone's head.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I've had every haircut you could possibly imagine: mullet, tail, dreadlocks, afro, crew cut. It's always been an expression of who I am.
My hair was famous before I was.
I decided to grow my hair out during college, and it's kind of stuck ever since. Even when I thought about cutting it or trimming it, common sense kicks in, and I don't think the fans would recognize me; people wouldn't know who I am. It would almost be like Santa Claus losing his powers.
Man, I have so many names that everybody calls me something different. Some people call me Drew, some people call me Mayer, some people call me Haircut.
For a long time, I dressed like an idiot. In college, I had a fully shaved head with just two horns. Like, a coxcomb of hair that I would sculpt into two horns. I looked like a crazy person.
It was my mustache that landed jobs for me. In those silent-film days it was the mark of a villain. When I realized they had me pegged as a foreign nobleman type I began to live the part, too. I bought a pair of white spats, an ascot tie and a walking stick.
Having a mustache and never smiling became a permanent component of my persona through the quaintly self-important decade of the seventies.
Being a barber is about taking care of the people.
The moment to tell my barber I was gay just never came up.
Growing up, I had a terrible pudding-bowl haircut. I used to cut it myself, and I'd sew my own clothing, too. I looked a little strange compared to the other kids. But the thing was, I felt I looked amazing, so what other people thought never bothered me.
No opposing quotes found.