Notes from my curtain bangs adventure

Every few months, like clockwork, a familiar thought pervades my mind: Maybe I should get bangs. This usually changes by the time I actually sit in the salon chair, and I end up opting for a routine trim. Sometimes, I’ll refresh the ash-blonde balayage on my dark hair if the highlights are starting to yellow, and with it I’ll satiate my desire to change something about my appearance. But actually committing to a fringe? Given how indecisive I am (a very typical Libra trait), I never follow through.

Getting bangs requires guts. Unlike hair colour, which can be dyed back if you don’t like it, there’s no immediate going back once you’ve chopped off your locks. While debating the pros and cons of a fringe with my hairstylist, he suggested curtain bangs. You may have noticed curtain bangs all over your Instagram feed of late (on Anne Hathaway, Daisy Edgar-Jones, and Sabrina Carpenter, to name a few). They’re not the typical blunt bangs that form a horizontal line on your forehead, but are longer, and usually parted down the middle, or slightly off-centre, framing the face on either side. Seeing they were on trend and seemed to offer just enough disruption to my usual haircut to feel like I’d done something different—a sort of gateway bangs—I was convinced.

It was everything I wanted it to be. For precisely one week.

In the first couple of days after my haircut, my curtain bangs swooped gently across my forehead with the slightest wave. My partner said it suited me. Friends said I looked like I had my life together. My personality sparkled under the weight(lessness) of my new hair. Did it obstruct my view? Yes. But it felt like a small price to pay for how good it looked and made me feel.

Then reality crept on a humid Tuesday morning when I woke up to find my wispy swoop transformed into a limp, greasy lock clinging to my forehead—as if I had just finished a 12-hour shift at a diner that serves the equivalent of a heart attack on a plate. Bangs, it turns out, were a lifestyle. I washed and blast-dried my hair as I usually would, but something was amiss. There wasn’t enough volume! My straight, 1A hair fell flat against my face. Feeling betrayed, I grabbed a round brush and went over my bangs with the hair dryer on a hotter setting once again. I began to realise that much like a needy lover, curtain bangs demand constant attention. They need to be blow-dried, coaxed into place, and sometimes bullied with a round brush if, like me, you have straight hair and don’t own a Dyson Airwrap.

According to Mumbai-based hairstylist Elton Vessoaker, curtain bangs don’t require much maintenance for most people, if cut correctly. “It’s not just about the shape but also about creating that softness. If the bangs are texturised well, they should sit beautifully with a simple blow-dry. Even a Velcro roller can sometimes sort out the curtain bangs for you,” he says.

Given my hair lacked texture, I found myself locked in an endless loop of maintenance for the next few weeks. Every morning became a high-stakes negotiation between me, my dryer, and the front section of my hair. I had to account for an extra 15 minutes every morning to figure out if I had to wash my fringe or if I could get away with another spray of dry shampoo.

On good-hair days, curtain bangs were like a magic trick. They framed my face just so, turning even the most mundane errands into potential meet-cute territory straight out of a rom-com. I would catch glimpses of myself on reflective surfaces and feel like the main character in the room. For fleeting moments, the maintenance felt worth it.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life had become structured around the whims of the bangs. By week three, I started daydreaming about freedom—the sheer, uncomplicated joy of tucking my hair behind my ears without ceremony, without needing a barrette or a headband to do simple tasks like wash my face.

As my bangs reached the tip of my nose, I debated whether or not to go in for a trim. Vessoaker says, “Clients could come in every month. If the angle is appropriate for the client’s face, as it continues to grow out it can be a slightly lived-in look, which feels like a different vibe as well, so it has good longevity.”

I still loved the idea of curtain bangs, the way they framed my face whether I wore my hair in a ponytail, claw-clipped half of it, or simply left it loose, but couldn’t muster up the courage to go in for a trim and start the cycle of maintenance all over again. So, I grew them out. Slowly, stubbornly. I fumbled through the cool ‘lived-in’ phase, which was followed by the awkward growing-out phase—that purgatory where your bangs are too long to be bangs but too short to be anything else—with more headbands and clips.

If you’re wondering whether to get curtain bangs, it’s best suited to people with a bit of a wave in their hair, where the natural texture can do the trick without the need for styling. If you have straight hair like me, ask yourself this: Are you ready for a relationship? Because bangs, even the curtain variety, are a daily commitment. If you don’t mind spending a few minutes on styling, go for it. But if you’re more of a wash-and-go person, be warned: curtain bangs demand attention. They’re fun, flirty, and transformative—but only if you’re willing to put in the work.

Three months on, now that my bangs are all grown out and I can tuck it all in a ponytail without any of it getting in my face again, I’m back to where I started. Should I get bangs? Maybe it’s time to get that digital perm I’ve been thinking about for almost a year instead.