Awkward moment at the hairdresser’s today. I blame the trashy gossip magazine which mentioned some actress being on a ‘most hated in Hollywood’ scale. My hairdresser says, “Why her?… I like her.” “I don’t. She probably smells and tastes of cigarettes,” I said. Because I’ve seen photos of her in other trashy magazines puffing away like it’s her last day on earth.
My hairdresser doesn’t say anything for about five minutes.
Suddenly, I realise that I can smell cigarettes/smoke on his fingers, which are busily trimming my fringe. (How could I not have smelt/known/figured this out before?)
Excellent. Not excellent. Whatever.
I guess I am a little bit on the intolerant side when it comes to cigarettes.
So now I’m feeling a tad guilty about being judgemental about smokers and, by association, my hairdresser too. I was very relieved when he didn’t fry my hair but gave me beachy waves instead. Suffice to say, I hope the tip was enough. Surely he’ll have forgotten about it by the next visit? I guess I’ll know if I end up with a disasterous fringe or a bowl cut. (Of course I’m going to go back – just call it living on the edge. Hah!)
Listening: Secondhand Rapture by MS MR
Because it’s not possible to leave the house every day with a hat on one’s head… not even one’s other half’s Panama – which I have been known to swipe from time to time.
My hair was a tangle of coir until my awesome hairdresser suggested Kérastase’s Nectar Thermique. It was almost impossible to run a comb or brush through it. I was this close to dreds. And giving up. (Translation: cutting it all off.)
No more. It’s genius, game changer. It’s head (hah!) and shoulders above all the other conditioners, serums and oils. Leave-in, blow dry and go. Soft, yes, manageable, uh-huh! Worth the AUD45 or whatever the RRP is. I’m a Kérastase convert.
Listening: Electric by Atlas Genius
Hello! Your opinions please?
Keep the length or go back to short?
(I won’t say anything about the number ‘3’ – specific to this post. I’m tempted though.)
I seem to have jumped on the coconut oil bandwagon. Not shown in this photo is the extra virgin coconut oil I bought for consumption. But I have been consuming small amounts of it this week – a half teaspoonful of the stuff in my tea, of all things. It’s quite odd to be adding oil to tea. I haven’t cooked any meals at home this week, but if I had done so I would’ve substituted the coconut oil for the usual sunflower oil or whatever it is that’s currently in the kitchen.
EVCO aside, I couldn’t go past the body butter (patchouli! sandalwood!) nor the perfume balm (jasmine!). I am really enjoying these so far, I must say!
The irony hasn’t escaped me, though. As a child growing up in Malaysia, my grandmother used to make DIY coconut oil and we used to put it in our hair for unbeatably soft, smooth and shiny hair. I remember being teased at school for being a hick with coconut-oiled hair, but what the heck! Everyone wants the natural stuff these days. We’ve come full circle, back to our coconut tree and its strange fruit (and oil).
Some days that I wish I could either shave off all my hair or just let it be.
The second option would require more than a mere day. I’d need go away for six months, or even a year, to a desert island, preferably – to just let the follicles find their level (whatever that means). No more five to six weekly hair appointments. I just want to be. Unruly. Unkempt. Uncoiffed. I’d probably be unemployed too because without regular hair maintenance I’d probably look unemployable, too. (Hello, escapee from the loony bin?)
So I guess I should really seriously consider the first option. Jeebus.
Friday has been brought to you by BHD*.
*BHD = Bad Hair Day