I did this movie about Salvador Dali a few years ago and had hair extensions and a little bob. That was incredibly bizarre.
Do you have any idea what Ali meant to black people? He was the leader of a nation, the leader of Black America. As a young black, at times I was ashamed of my color; I was ashamed of my hair. And Ali made me proud.
I got into my very theatrical phase. I wore only black: a big black hat and wild hair and wild black clothes, and I carried a sword stick. I went there still looking like Miss Florida, and I came back looking very different.
I totally think there was a country hair phase. If you look at all the mullets, and Dolly Parton, and Reba's hair, Tim McGraw's hair, Blake Shelton's hair, they definitely had their moments.
Blake Lively is my style icon, and she always has rocking clothes and shoes. She keeps it really simple with hair and makeup, and I try to do the same thing. Onstage, I do a little smokier, a little more contouring, but I still always want to be an approachable and real artist, so I never try to go overboard.
My face is almost like a canvas - a blank canvas in the sense that the hair on my face is very, very fine and my skin is incredibly fair and my hair is quite dark, and that's very unusual.
Long hair is a security blanket for me. I cut it short a few years ago and I really never want to do that again. When I do cut it, I cut it myself.
Long hair is considered bohemian, which may be why I grew it, but I keep it long because I love the way it feels, part cloak, part fan, part mane, part security blanket.
Four hoarse blasts of a ship's whistle still raise the hair on my neck and set my feet to tapping.
For styling, I don't like a lot of mousse. I do use Sally Hershberger's Texture Blast, which is like a hair spray, but just at the roots. I have really good hair, and I don't like to plaster it.
I will be 60 or 70 years old still rocking my Chanel blazer with my hair all coiffed.
A cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering.
When I talk football with my friends, I don't talk about Tom Brady's hair. I talk about how he handles the blitz, or how he runs his offense. I talk as a fan. I don't want pink jerseys, and I don't want dumbed-down content. I want to be treated as a real fan - because I am proud to be one.
One of the reasons why I don't leave Northampton is that the people don't treat me like a celebrity. I've been here for years; I'm just that bloke with long hair.
The working men, I'll go by and they'll whistle. At first they whistle because they think, 'Oh, it's a girl. She's got blond hair and she's not out of shape,' and then they say, 'Gosh, it's Marilyn Monroe!'
I wanted to be like my friends. I hung out with girls who had blue eyes and blond hair and I thought, 'I want to look like them!'
If you are AC/DC, you don't get credit for slow songs. And if you are doing a show about food with a blond dude with crazy blond hair and tattoos who drives a hot rod, of course everyone is going to think everything you eat is deep-fried.
My problem was that I was blond. There were no heroes with blond hair. Robert Taylor and Henry Fonda, they all had dark hair. The only one I found was Van Johnson, who wasn't too cool. He was a nice, homely American boy. So I created my own image. It worked.
The real color of my hair is mouse. I always want to be ginger, which I was when I was born, or blond, because I live in L.A., and I want to look like I go surfing without any physical effort.
When I was a child I asked my mother what homosexuality was about and she said - and this was 100 years ago in Germany and she was very open-minded - 'It's like hair color. It's nothing. Some people are blond and some people have dark hair. It's not a subject.' This was a very healthy attitude.