Snazzy New Hairstlyle for Susan Boyle, Brit’s New Singing Star
This reporter wrote here on April 17th about Susan Boyle, the British singing star discovered on Britain’s, ahem, “American Idol” show. She sang the sad tale of Les Miserables’ I Dreamed a Dream with an ancient soul ideally suited to her persona and her visage. (Ms. Boyle, pictured on left, the day after her spectacular performance.)
Your scribe’s hope then was that she would be permitted to remain Susan Boyle, and not be recast to “improve,” to “commercialize,” or to “promote” her to the mass audience so smitten with the likes of Angelina Jolie (Oh God), Haley Berry (my oh my oh my), or Selma Hayek (Hooooochy Mama). Well, your correspondent had the opportunity to meet Ms. Boyle during her brief stopover in Washington, D.C. where, just yesterday, she met President Obama. And this scribe can report that the Ms. Boyle encountered is indeed an unvarnished version of the Ms. Boyle anticipated. She has changed not a whit, and, to your reporter’s eyes, she is everything one could desire in a singer or a woman. And more.
The meeting was arranged for me by an individual within the Obama administration who I happen to have a very thick file on. Ms. Boyle, of course, met your author at the fabulous Capitol Rotunda restaurant, The Disgruntled Toad, known for its exceptional cuisine and service, particularly to your scribe who has, for some reason, endeared himself to the friendly and generous management. With dinner running a D.C. affordable $38.95 prix fixe on weekday evenings, including dessert, what reporter could not be enchanted to use this site for his interviews? In any event, Ms. Boyle arrived promptly and was seated by the respectful wait staff, and we began to discuss her recent roller coaster ride to fame over on-the-house (!) flaming cocktail concoctions, the Flaming Federal Budget, that both seared my eyebrows and, candidly, knocked me right on my a-s-s, mentally at least.
So, in the event, please excuse that your writer cannot now make much sense out of his scrawled notes, and has little memory of anything your interrogator asked, or how Ms. Boyle replied. Your chronicler does remember, early on, asking Ms. Boyle, “How was your flight to D.C.?” However, my notes appear to indicate she slapped your writer viciously and called me a “boorish swine’s bottom,” or some such imprecation, so perhaps she misunderstood the question. That’s pretty much the extent of your journalist’s notes and memories of the conversation. However, one does recall numerous of those flaming cocktail concoctions, each of which further cooked your writer’s eyebrows, and – somehow – at some point in the proceedings, burned a three inch wide swath approximately four inches up the center of my once thick hairline.
So, other than getting an odd reply regarding her flight here, your scrivener can report that he found Ms. Boyle a delightful visage (see photo on right). During the numerous times I was conscious, I could not fail to notice that Ms. Boyle’s hair was styled slightly differently from her performance last week, now with a comely swept back elegance that reveals features we had missed or misinterpreted heretofore. Your reporter’s a man’s man, and no expert in these things, but her new hairdo accentuates her now apparently wide spaced eyes and brings the illusion that her eyebrows have been reduced in width from approximately 6 inches to about one-quarter inch. Quite apparent also is how her lighter hair color also influences the appearance of her nose. It now seems to be pert and attractive, not stout and, well, frightening to children. These hairstylists earn their pay, I say! How did they, through a simple application of comb and coloring, collapse what appeared to be three prominent chins into a singular entity? And I would not before have believed one could produce a heart stopping lower lip via simple barbering tools. When your reporter went somewhat beyond reportage and attempted to lick Ms. Boyle’s now noticeable – and noticeably delicious – cheekbones, the interview came to a police-intermediated ending. This reporter in what he recalls of his statement at the D.C. jail blamed the hairstylists. By the way, the subduing and arresting police officers each have offered to testify on my behalf.
So, there you have it. Despite my somewhat off performance, what your commenter truly likes about the real Susan Boyle is that she is still there, in her innocence, in her everywoman appeal. A simple change in hairstyle – something we all do from time to time – has not hidden who she is. Your chronicler of human events as played out at the elegance that is The Disgruntled Toad restaurant is pleased that this time the marketing people, the changeover artists, and the money people didn’t get their wrecking ball hands on her. Although a certain reporter, however, did.
Hail Susan Boyle. It’s trite, but “don’t never change”!