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A eulogy for Joe Keery’s hair

Words by Maeve Kerr-Crowley

RIP.

Today, we mourn the loss of someone very near to our hearts: Joe Keery’s hair.

Joe Keery’s beautiful, shiny hair – somehow both floppy and bouncy, how did he do it? – is no more. It has left this world suddenly and shockingly, leaving those of us who loved it behind, tearful and confused.

I was invested enough in Joe Keery’s old hair to consider it its own entity, existing separately from his head, body and all the other wonderful parts of him.

But now.

My boy – my dear, dear boy – unveiled a new look at a Chanel event a few nights ago, and I’m going to need at least a dozen business days to fully process the change.

This choppy, Dumb and Dumber-esque bowl cut and bangs will haunt my dreams. I fear I may never be able to close my eyes again.

I know everybody is entitled to do whatever they like with their own hair, and questionable haircuts are a rite of passage. Hell, I took a photo of Alice Cullen’s pixie cut to a hairdresser when I was 13, and therefore forfeit my right to judge anybody ever. But, at the same time, I am not Joe Keery.

My hair is not Joe Keery’s hair. And now, neither is Joe Keery’s.

At this stage, our only choice is to remember those luscious strands fondly, and try to open our hearts to this new midlife crisis page boy look he’s clearly going for.

It will be difficult, but take comfort in the knowledge that we’re all in it together.

And to Joe Keery’s hair, I say: Goodnight, my sweet prince. May we meet again someday.

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