Word: ponytails
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...from the clutches of his parents' old-fashioned expectations. A graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, where, he says, he was named "most likely to serve," Sterling is the chef at the Richfield Ladies' Club in green and tastefully affluent Connecticut. When one of the ladies praises his ponytail and guesses that he wears it in honor of his forebears back in China, Sterling muses, "My forebears? Think Beatles, Jerry Garcia...
...something from the world. I avoided overnight trips and retreats in fear that people would find out my secret. I reluctantly shied away from many sports teams, afraid that my hair might fall off in the middle of a play. How many times have you tugged on a friendis ponytail to say hello? Probably a lotoI do it too. But every time someone pulled my hair, knocked off my baseball cap, or even put an arm around my shoulder, I imagined a humiliating scene in the middle of Annenberg or the center of the Yard. Fear...
...that, Frazier admits, was not the only reason he made all those arduous treks. "I am a middle-aged non-Indian who wears his hair in a thinning ponytail copied originally from the traditional-style long hair of the leaders of the American Indian Movement of the 1970s because I thought it looked cool." Lance's brother teasingly calls Frazier a "wannabe" Indian, and the author doesn't protest much. "Walking on Pine Ridge, I feel as if I am in actual America, the original version that was here before and will still be here after we're gone...
Jones, who lives in the high desert northeast of town, goes into that closet a mild-mannered secretary and comes out Krazy K.C., Wild Man from the Desert Sand, with a ponytail, Gestapo boots, combat fatigues and Harley suspenders. And why this particular getup? "You go with what you know," he says...
When Pierre spotted me--the reporter's notebook was the tip-off--it was clear why I was drawing blanks. He looked nothing like the old photo I had dug up. He had abandoned his Internet-guru getup--the gawky glasses, the long ponytail--and now looked like any other well-dressed, thirtysomething Parisian. No car and driver. No p.r. entourage...