I was like 13 and my mom wanted my hair cut. Crap like that didn’t happen when I got older though.
I guess I was about 9-10 (1974) when I asked mom if I could let my hair grow.
She said, “As long as you keep it clean, I hate greasy hair”.
Well I was off to the races. From that point on they never really said much about my appearance other than my Dad’s obligatory “Boy, get a haircut”.
My look in High School was much more Judd Nelson in the “Breakfast Club” several years before the movie came out.
Since I paid for my own garb from 15, I spent a lot of money in Thrift stores.
Mom was always cool about it, and would occasionally shake her head jokingly, and laugh a little.
She knew she had raised a “unique” kid.