This week, I have a sudden "enough" moment with my hair. Don't get me wrong - I'm loving having some hair - soooooo much better than the whole wig/scarf thing. It's just that there seems to have been a mix up at the factory, and I've got someone else's hair.
First they gave me Leo Sayers hair, circa 1979. I tried to swap it for both Marge Simpson and Grace Jones but neither was really a runner.
In the most serious mix up so far, I now seem to have ended up with Jeremy Clarkson's hair. This can't go on.
Now, I know some of you (probably the ones with straight hair) will look at the photo above and say - "but that's not so bad". Believe me, it is - I look 10 years older than I do when my hair is wet (and therefore just curly rather than corkscrew-y) - it's frizzy and really deeply strange, as much as anything else. So wind it in, OK.
After much research online, I decide to go and visit Cedric for a consultation. This is perhaps my most extraordinary Singapore experience so far, and leaves me reeling, laughing and in a state of some disbelief - as well as extremely hopeful that something can be done. I will, in fact, be almost indistinguishable from Elle McPherson by this time tomorrow. I am planning on writing a photo journal (not to be confused with a photo story - that's what we used to have in Jackie and Blue Jeans) so that you can share the full joy of the day.
So here we go:
09:15: Sit in Starbucks somewhere behind Plaza Singapura, waiting for it all to begin.
9:20: Have sudden panic attack that a) am going to end up looking like Snape, and b) should have dressed in trendiest clothes and put on makeup so that Cedric realizes that am actually very young and cutting edge, and doesn't give me old person hair.
9:25: Arrive at Salon. From the outside, gorgeous classic Singapore shophouse. Take deep breath and go in......
9:30: Am instantly transported to 18th century Florence, as imagined by Liberace in his Vegas years.
Yapping around my ankles are three miniature poodles in varying shades of apricot, who take one look at my hair and decide I am their mother. Resign self to spending the next 2 hours pushing them off lap to make room for Hello magazine. Cedric is wonderfully flamboyant (he should really be called Serge) and fits his environment perfectly - I am wafted into my seat. Let the
games begin....
10:10: It's all go. Have now been "relaxed" although not entirely sure what this means - feel deeply unrelaxed due to limp and lifeless nature of current hair status. Still - one process down and one to do - must push on.
10:20: Hair has been blow dried ready for application of Brazilian stuff. No longer limp and lifeless but a dead ringer for a bottle brush. Oh god.
10:30: Brazilian stuff "on" and am now sitting under heater for next 30 mins. Deep breaths. Also getting quite hot with three poodles on my lap. Try to read book but am afraid to put glasses on as may cause hair dents (am not told this by Cedric so may be untrue and urban myth - but 3 months of dented hair seems a high price to pay so am not taking any risks).
11:00: Much blow drying and tonging from Cedric, along with what I believe are intended to be reassuring noises along the lines of "it'll take a week or so to settle down". As cannot see a mirror at this stage, am not in the slightest bit reassured by said noises. In fact quite the reverse.
11:30: Allowed to look in mirror. Oh god. Am wearing a black Andy Warhol wig.
12:00: Eject poodles from lap (not as easy as it sounds - they cling surprisingly strongly). Mortgage house to pay for treatment and leave, clutching bottles of special shampoo and conditioner and instructions to not wash hair for 24 hours (noooooooo) and to not go in either chlorine or seawater. EVER.
12:05: Go in search of paper bag for head.
12:10: Have a coffee and assess the situation:
- GOOD: no longer have Jeremy Clarkson, Billy Joel or Grace Jones hair
- BAD: have Andy Warhol hair which may potentially frighten both children and horses
- GOOD: can now use hair accessories again
- BAD: have always been really rubbish at using hair accessories. Also will NEED to use major hair accessories unless life returns to hair
- GOOD: hair seems to be a rather nice colour when curls removed. Also shiny and glossy and healthy looking
- BAD: hair appears to be dead and clinging to scalp in a most unattractive way.
12:30: Arrive home to mocking children. Edar says "but it was much prettier curly". Sack Edar. Hide in room and start counting the 24 hours until can wash hair.
THE END RESULT:
I am thrilled. I look normal. It's not exciting, interesting, sexy or anything. I have boring, short brown hair. And do you know what - that is absolutely bloody wonderful! I feel as if it's the last stage back to normality - I look like myself again. Hurrah!
Zen-like and serene,
J xx
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