A shade braver

wonder-womanThere are people who get itchy feet. I, however, get itchy hair. No, not as in those six legged follicle dwelling bugs, but the other sort of bug, the idiomatic bug that means I can’t keep the same hairstyle or shade for more than a few months; a hairy wanderlust if you like. So much so my own mother plays a ‘Where’s Wally’-esque game spotting me in the latest social snap’s I show her. I need to play. I need to try everything once… and if it means I have to buy new clothes ‘to match my new hair’, well that’s just a peachy by-product.

As I ponder how I got here today though, from that fateful moment I plucked up the courage to request my first ever half head of highlights, I realise that that was the day I became brave (please stifle those chuckles and read on). No, not through an act of heroically saving little Timmy stuck down that mine shaft, nor through rescuing next doors pesky kitten from a 50ft Great Oak or even by standing up to the local gang of impertinent’s permanently affixed shoulder to brick outside McDonalds. But through an outwardly rather simple sunny afternoon off college. I went against my very bashfully demure teen me, against my mother’s little voice on my shoulder chanting ‘you’ll ruin your hair forever’. I entered that salon, and out emerged, well… me.  Yes, still me. But a me who could suddenly look in the mirror and think ‘ok, you really don’t look all that awful’. A me who could suddenly take a compliment, and believe it. A me who realised there really is nothing to be scared of. A me who learnt to make my own decisions, and enjoy the results of them. Not to worry so much about what other people thought about me, but what I thought about myself, that was what now mattered. Pretty hefty stuff, all from a little application of peroxide eh?

The moral of my little flashback I guess is that it takes just one moment of bravery to produce a lifetime’s worth. Friends see me as a libertine of layers and blunt fringes, of wavy wefts and asymmetric wedges. I’ve transformed no end of times and yes Mum, still have soft(ish) hair. Had I not taken that step in that salon that day, I may still be that introvert teen, hiding away and letting other people lead the way. But I took that step and now, most importantly, I lead me now.

So why not take that first step?

Check into your local lookfantastic salon, have that haircut you’ve always cooed over but never thought would suit you, or go that shade you’ve always admired on your friend but has always been ‘far too daring’ for you. The fun is in the doing, the experience, the adventure. And even if all goes wrong, you’re one step ahead of where you were before.




Make Up Specialist

Major fan of scented candles, Make Up brushes and Highlighter. I’m always on the hunt for those Holy Grail products and my dressing table is covered in more beauty products than I like to admit. As an adopted Northerner originally from Brighton, I spend most my days wondering what all this rain is about. My hair isn’t grateful for the move. Currently loving: NIOD Photography Fluid