Different Shades Of The Same Girl
Today I got to thinking about the importance and influence of hair colour on one's life. This was triggered by an article that I read in last month's (I think) British Elle. The article was written by a woman who dyed her hair from blonde to brunette. She went on to describe that she was happy because she no longer looked trashy in leopard print but builders stopped wolf-whistling at her so not all was good in brunette city. At first I thought 'How dramatic' but after some consideration I realised how much my own hair colour affects me. I am naturally dark blonde and for about the past three years have been getting blonde champagne blonde high lights all over which brings me closer to the hair colour I actually desire (like Natasha Poly's) but don't have the guts to get. Bleaching my entire hair is a tad extreme for me. I love my hair that way and it's not because 'blondes have more fun' but because in my mind, I am supposed to be blonde therefore I feel my most comfortable and confident at that shade. It is a hassle to keep up with all the highlights, it takes about three hours every eight weeks and it takes quite a bit of money. Money has to be spent on the actual hairdressing as well as products because peroxide doesn't make hair pretty. So, at the end of June, I marched into Superdrug and picked up two boxes of light brown hair dye. I applied it the following evening. That was it, years of being blonde was erased by twenty minutes of questionable hair dye. I looked in he mirror and saw a stranger. I looked paler but didn't mind it. The hair looked good but I felt strange. The next day I wore my leopard print jumpsuit together with my newly brown hair (Karlie Kloss shade) and maybe by coincidence didn't attract as much attention as I usually do. You see, that makes me sounds like I'm attention seeking. That's not it, it was just an indication that I was now someone else. Anyone but me. The brown washed off slowly revealing small traces of my highlights. I had the choice of making an appointment with my hairdresser or grabbing another box of dye. I went shopping. I looked to Casting Creme Gloss to find me a suitable shade and came across 'Sweet Honey'. It promised to bring out my eyes and add golden tones to my hair. The shade itself could be described as golden blonde so I grabbed that and ran home. There's a strange kind of excitement attached to changing one's hair colour and if you do it yourself, an element of danger too. I should tell you that as I type this, I have kind of gingery hair colour a la Vlada which was unexpected. The 'Sweet Honey' did not turn out as expected and yet again, I wasn't disappointed since my skin suits the colour and my green eyes look yet greener. Why is it then that I want to call my hair dresser, begging for an appointment to get a full head of blonde highlights? It has to be a strange psychological attachment that I have to my old hair colour, to my old character. Sure, I may be over thinking the whole hair colour thing but I am free to do so. The moral of this story is two-fold: get your hair done professionally and really think before doing so.