Matters of the head
Today I followed the charming Mrs M's links and found my way to Perpetual Motion whose post rang a very loud bell in my head.
Since moving to Suffolk my hair has been an area of failure. I had waist length hair for most of my life, it was long, thick and rather pre-Raphaelite in style and curl, it was really quite lovely but of course I never realised this at the time and rather regretted my lack of experimentation and style. At the age of 33, in the early stages of pregnancy and therefore very likely hormonally unbalanced I had it all cut off quite short, in the popular Meg Ryan style of the day. It was quickly apparent that I do not look like Meg Ryan and I certainly do not have her hair type and so began my often unrewarding relationship with hairdressers.
On that occasion, I found myself entirely unable to make my hair look as it did when I walked out of the salon and I returned a few days later. They were very kind and patient, they took me through all the steps, I left feeling confident and the next day I began to style with abandon. Of course you already know what I am going to say don't you? Yup, it never did look salon beautiful and I resigned myself to birds nest hair and stocked up on hair ties as I began the growing process.
In Wales I was lucky enough to finally find a rather wonderful stylist called Emma, she listened to what I wanted, she understood my hair, she did not laugh when I brought her unrealistic pictures from magazines and on many occasions she actually made my hair look like those pictures. She was a complete treasure and it rather broke my heart to leave her. In the past year I have been to several different hairdressers and not one of them has made my hair look like Emma did, indeed one of them sent me out with neon orange and yellow hair which I think might have made dear Emma cry.
Right now I am supporting a good inch of grey and brown roots atop my yellow and brown mop and deciding just where to present my head on a platter to this time. Ever hopeful that one of these days I might just find another Emma.
The entirely unrelated photographs which accompany this post are of a recent scarf I made for a friend in a combination of linen and Liberty prints, I simply could not bear to supply you with a selection of my bad hair pictures. In case you are ever in need of fantastic hair in North Wales my lovely ex-hairdresser can be found at Clinton James, Junction.
Today I followed the charming Mrs M's links and found my way to Perpetual Motion whose post rang a very loud bell in my head.
Since moving to Suffolk my hair has been an area of failure. I had waist length hair for most of my life, it was long, thick and rather pre-Raphaelite in style and curl, it was really quite lovely but of course I never realised this at the time and rather regretted my lack of experimentation and style. At the age of 33, in the early stages of pregnancy and therefore very likely hormonally unbalanced I had it all cut off quite short, in the popular Meg Ryan style of the day. It was quickly apparent that I do not look like Meg Ryan and I certainly do not have her hair type and so began my often unrewarding relationship with hairdressers.
On that occasion, I found myself entirely unable to make my hair look as it did when I walked out of the salon and I returned a few days later. They were very kind and patient, they took me through all the steps, I left feeling confident and the next day I began to style with abandon. Of course you already know what I am going to say don't you? Yup, it never did look salon beautiful and I resigned myself to birds nest hair and stocked up on hair ties as I began the growing process.
In Wales I was lucky enough to finally find a rather wonderful stylist called Emma, she listened to what I wanted, she understood my hair, she did not laugh when I brought her unrealistic pictures from magazines and on many occasions she actually made my hair look like those pictures. She was a complete treasure and it rather broke my heart to leave her. In the past year I have been to several different hairdressers and not one of them has made my hair look like Emma did, indeed one of them sent me out with neon orange and yellow hair which I think might have made dear Emma cry.
Right now I am supporting a good inch of grey and brown roots atop my yellow and brown mop and deciding just where to present my head on a platter to this time. Ever hopeful that one of these days I might just find another Emma.
The entirely unrelated photographs which accompany this post are of a recent scarf I made for a friend in a combination of linen and Liberty prints, I simply could not bear to supply you with a selection of my bad hair pictures. In case you are ever in need of fantastic hair in North Wales my lovely ex-hairdresser can be found at Clinton James, Junction.
Comments
I have been to the same hairdresser for years, hate the way she dries it but never seem able to tell her so I end up going home to wash and dry it again.
My hair was perfectly smooth and straight, then went crazy-wavy in my teens, and I've never really got the hang of it since!
K x
life (ok, hair) has never been the same since!
In the past I’ve had no qualms asking strangers with lovely hair where they went to get it cut.
One thing you could do especially if you had a good relationship with your old hairdresser is ask her for the hair dye details – they usually write it down.
I'd hate to think what my natural hair would look like as I'm so afraid of the 'grey top' I keep covering it over.
Have a fabulous weekend,
Nina xxx
great sewing rebecca~
Lovely scarf, gorgeous fabrics!
Ali
x
However I'm certain you will find a sympathetic hairdresser eventually; she will be female (men just don’t listen however much they nod) and she will understand how fantastic long thick hair can look - I know - I found her in Ilkley a couple of years ago.