When I was 19 I would dress up in a shirt and tie - every single Thursday.
I'm not sure why I started it.
"So..." people asked, "why are you all dressed up?"
I had no good answer. But I kept dressing up. It had the makings of a story.
"Because, um. It's Thursday."
I wore a tie every day for five years in high school - but it was a non-issue. When you go to an all-boys private school, having a physical appearance is mostly a non-issue. As a teenager I was all intellect and brain vapour. I had no use for mirrors.
Then I got to university. 'Feel good by looking good' was my new philosophy. It worked. People got to expect it - the tie, the style, the smile. It was strange for me, because I don't really like attention. The direct, staring 'who's that guy'? kind. I still don't like mirrors; they force me to stare.
Anyway, my first haircut at Queen's was on a Thursday. It was early November, my hair was criminally shaggy. And my new hairdresser was hot.
"Why are you dressed up," she asked, "on a Thursday morning?"
She had an incredible figure and bottle blonde hair. But Christ - her first name eludes me now. It was one of those blonde-bombshell names.
"It's this thing I do." I was half in love already. "It's dress-up Thursday."
Jaclyn? Holly? Amber? Sonja? Kendra? Tricia?
"Ok.... Why do you do it?"
Cuz I'm an eccentric baddass daredevil, I wanted to tell her. Glad I didn't. It was a great haircut. She cut my hair every two months for the next three years.
"I guess because it makes people smile."
I was 100 % faithful to her. Her scissors, my hair, three years. I've never been committed to anyone that long.
She moved to Ottawa in 2000 to open a salon. I think of her every time my hair grows shaggy. I'm sad about her name now. I'm sad because she asked me the best questions - and I'm letting her down.
"It gives people something to talk about."
I've never told any hairdresser since Keira about Dress up Thursdays. It was our thing, and besides - they might think I was strange.
Ah. Yes. Keira. Keira. Keirah? No.
I miss you Keira. Move back to Kingston. Thanks for indulging this incoherent anecdote. I wrote about you so I could remember your name.