It feels like only yesterday that softbois would signpost their toxic traits with their acid-green buzzcuts. But after years as the trim of choice for It-kids, the fluoro hairdo has finally peaked. Now, rising from the ashes, a new (old) barnet reigns supreme, toasting Cool Britannia’s second wind. Enter: the mod mop, a scruffy blast from the past perfect for anyone bucking the indie-sleaze trend. Nostalgic? Check. Based on a romanticised notion of the great British freedom? Double check.
Figuring widely on the AW23 runways, the haircut took hold from Prada to Zegna, where mousey, pallid boys-next-door recalled the heady days of early social media. Of course, it’s hardly the first time we’ve seen the look on the runway, with Hedi Slimane proudly flying its flag since the late 90s. Mod boys in skinny belts and leopard print teddy coats have long been pillars of his creative vision, from early aughts Dior to inbetweenies and teenies Saint Laurent and even present-day Celine, with each show awash with Noel Gallagher (and Fielding) lookalikes.
Where once flame-dyed buzzcuts were the crowning glory of any decent Coachella fit-pic, these days, the dopamine do doesn’t cut it. After all, inflation has virtually everyone, bar the newly crowned monarch, in a chokehold. If you haven’t already lost your hair from stress, leaving it to grow out offers an easy way to express your apathy at the grim situation at hand. It makes sense, too. By embracing this lo-fi Anglomania, the modern-day fuckboi can ride the financial storm with a sense of brazen courage, aware of their doom but coddled in the safety of a bygone era where bemusement, irony and a touch of laddishness were enough to get you by. In practice: a floppy mop and fit check TikToks filmed from a bus stop bench. Hell, even Evan Mock, the bright buzzcut posterboy, has gone full Alex Turner circa 2006.
Of course, like the buzzcut, this shift is indicative of a collective nostalgia for a romanticised past. Back in 2015, the buzzcut became the cut of choice for budding Vetements fanatics and Brits abroad trying the door at Berghain, who forewent floppy tresses of conditioned hair in favour of the military-issue classic, combining an air of Renton from Trainspotting with nods to 70s skinhead culture. From there, it grew in popularity, taking on brighter tones when everyone from Zayn Malik to Frank Ocean — whose emerald-green paint job was then immortalised in hair history by fellow buzzcut brigadier Wolfgang Tillmans — started dying their no. 1 cuts all the colours of the rainbow. From there, it went viral, spanning Justin Bieber’s platinum do to Tyler, the Creator’s leopard print spin.
As such, the hairstyle lost its subcultural cachet, becoming just another template in your barber’s handbook: the short-back-and-sides 2.0, consigned to a graveyard alongside a plethora of topknots and mullets. But don’t fret. The logic of late capitalism holds that the mod top has been off the fashion radar for long enough to make a humble, postmodern return. Harking back to the halcyon days of late-aughts Pete Doherty, the style channels Glastonbury dishevelment, 90s Britpop, the late 70s mod revival and the original, Lambretta-wheeling mopheads of the 60s all in one.
There’s a few ways to buck the trend, too. If you’re still attached to the bleached buzzcut, ease yourself in with a medium-length mod top with the bottom of your ears on show and a fluffy fringe to replace Renton with Sick Boy. Sub in some Celine skinnies and keep a trilby on hand in case you have second thoughts.
Willing to take it up a notch? Look to the ragged coconut mod top, a style adopted by offbeat millennial tv personalities and coming-of-age drama heartthrobs (see Nicholas Hoult as Tony Stonem in Skins). Complement with a wardrobe of Adidas x Jeremy Scott high tops, shrunken leather jackets and silver Chelsea boots. Archival Topman is actively encouraged. It’s chaotic, but hey, that’s the point.
For your final form, shear the fringe with kitchen scissors, shaping it into a helmet. From now on, it’s just winklepickers, houndstooth suits and a skinny black tie. You go to gigs — not raves — and the only Raf you’ll touch is from the Fred Perry collaborations.
It’s hard saying goodbye, but your luminous slap-head days are done. Britain is grey and miserable, and summer is taking its sweet time to arrive. A haircut you can get your mum to do is easy on the wallet and it’s a great way to wallow in the utopian myths of Old Blighty. Granted, Britain was never great, but maybe the glory days of Mark Ronson and pre-Elf Bar Camden were as close to bliss as we’ll ever get? Either way, next time you’re in the hotseat, hand the barber a cut-out from Dior Homme SS06, NOT Cruz Beckham’s fuschia-dyed number-3. As, Oasis said, “Don’t look back in anger,” and in some ways they were right. Look back, but with an apathetic stupor and poorly kept mop.