I Don't Do "Natural"

I haven’t had a stylist near me with a pair of scissors or a bottle of dye in over ten years. My hair does not touch my feet nor am I covered in grey, so what gives? I cut and color my own hair. For some reason most people find it either fascinating or assume I’m a control freak. The truth is that when I was not yet a teenager I asked my mother to take me in for “highlights.” As soon as I sat in the chair my excitement turned to utter disappointment. “She’s only twelve so make sure it looks natural.”

Two hours later that is exactly what the mirror reflected. Nowhere near the dramatic transformation I had hoped for. Enter a nearby Walgreens and a mother who had gone out for the evening. Armed with some babysitting money and a “do it yourself” attitude, I embarked on my hair journey. The directions were surprisingly simple and while there were a few missed spots, I was overall thrilled with my own work.

After that my parents pretty much threw up their hands and I embarked on years of stained T shirts, towels and technicolor tresses. I also delighted in scouring thrift shops, cutting up and repurposing clothing and anything else I could do without the control of the parental wallet that would have me a preppy, all American bore. (That was my teenage opinion… no offense to you all that loved your Ralph Lauren and penny loafers.)

I grew up, went to college, got married and got paid. Hooray! As the money rolled in and the years went by I rather enjoyed going to the salon and all the pampering, fancy things that went with it. I bought my first pair of designer shoes (Cavalli) and then the subsequent bags and dresses that followed. Life was great.