Tuesday, July 31st, 2012
I guess I’m lucky that my long hair is in such good condition. Hairdressers are constantly surprised that I manage to maintain the length and keep it pretty damage-free. To be honest, I don’t even do anything that special to my hair. Once every few weeks, I’ll put almond oil in it and keep it in overnight, just to keep it looking shiny and nice, but that’s about the extent of my skills. Recently, Jo Hansford salon invited me in to try out their deep conditioning treatment and I figured my hair would thank me for it.
Monday, July 30th, 2012
Myself and Simone Daley-Richards are back with another episode of Yadda Yadda. This time, we’re talking about what lies beneath the weave and why we should just embrace who we are.
Check it out, enjoy, comment, share and let me know what you think.
Wednesday, December 7th, 2011
Hey, do you like hair? Do you like winning things? Then have I got a prize for you! ghd, the ultimate in sleeky hair straighening stylish goodness, has released this uber exclusive Scarlet Collection for the holiday season and one of you lucky lovelies can get your mitts on it. Read on to see how to enter.
Thursday, September 29th, 2011
When I’m rockin’ a fishtail braid, people always stop me and ask how I do it, so I thought I’d make this little step by step guide video. You’re welcome!
Friday, December 24th, 2010
It is my dream in life to one day have enough money to have a hair stylist on my ‘staff’ (along with a manicurist, an errand runner and a token gay man). My hair is long (I like to point out the obvious) and often times, I just don’t feel as though I have enough arms to deal with it. I love for someone else to take the reins and just handle it.
So, The Blow Bar, a new one stop shop for all your blow drying needs in Islington, is my dream come true. I was invited there this week to get my hair blow dried and you can see the results above. I had a meeting in the afternoon, so it was ideal for me to stop off there first and get my tresses sorted – can you imagine if I’d rocked into my meeting looking like that before picture? The horror!
Candice took care of taming my wild mane into lovely big, bouncy curls – her arms must have been killing her by the end of it, bless ‘er. Both Candice and Emma (pictured) gave me a really warm welcome when I arrived. There’s complimentary drinks, plenty of mags to browse through and joy of all joys, free wifi (an ideal hang out for a blogger with long hair!).
I really enjoyed the experience. Great products were used on my hair, the girls were friendly and a good laugh and best of all, I came out of it looking more polished for my meeting, without the hassle of having to sort it out myself (at least this way I could take care of emails and tweet my way through – two birds with one stone and all that).
All in all, I highly recommend it. If you have an important meeting, a party to go to or just know you’ll be bumping into your ex that day and want to look a million bucks, The Blow Bar is definitely worth a visit.
The Blow Bar is at 25 Camden Passage, Islington, London and you can find out more details over on their website.
Friday, October 8th, 2010
Me and my friend Becci were having a debate the other day: what age should you cut long hair? This is a subject close to my heart. I am the owner of long hair. That kinda made it sound like I invested in a weave or bought some extensions – no, no, it’s all mine. See that picture above? Yeah, that’s my hair. Pretty magnificent, isn’t it? Take a moment. Take it all in. I understand. It’s quite a thing to behold.
I always said I’d cut my hair when I turn 30, but with my 30th birthday a mere five months away, I’m becoming panicky. I don’t think I can part with my locks. I’m not ready damnit! Sure, I’ve had years to prepare for this moment but, but….well, I don’t know…it’s, you know…it’s hard! I cut all my hair off when I was 15. Literally, it was shaved up the back. I had to, see, ’cause all the girls at school had long hair. In the name of teenage rebellion, it was only right that I shaved part of my head. At 16 it was growing out and at 17, I was first introduced to my fabulous hairdresser, Mark. I explained I wanted to grow my hair and he said he would cut it from now on in the best way to maximise its growth.
And for years now, that’s what he’s done. He has loved and nurtured my hair. When I did a brief hair modelling gig for Vidal Sassoon and they permed my hair and hacked it all off, Mark reacted as if I’d cheated on him, but he still nursed it back to life, lovingly. And since I was 22 or 23, this has been my hair. Long, good condition, despite being abused by straightening irons for years, I now mostly let its wild curl take the stage (while desperately experimenting with any product that can tame its Irish Girl Afro tendencies).
When I lived in Japan, my students used to ask if they could touch my hair. I found it odd at first but they were genuinely fascinated by it. They’d stroke it and marvel at how soft it is. I’ve had complete strangers strike up a conversation with me in the street about my hair, both male and female, and it’s never pervy. It’s my security blanket. I can look back at pictures and see how I wore it slightly differently when I lived in New York, Tokyo, Montreal, Toronto. It’s always been long and it’s always been me.
When I cut it, it will literally be like I lose a part of me. But it’s hard to carry off long hair when you’re older (yes Jerry Hall, I’m talking to you). I like my hair and it suits me, but at some point, it won’t be in as good condition as it is now and I’ll have to lose it. When I do go for the big chop, I will, of course, donate my hair, most likely to Locks of Love (Lord knows I have enough of it to give).
So, what say ye? Can ladies pull off longer hair past a certain age or is there a literal cut off date?
Tuesday, May 18th, 2010
There are certain looks I find questionable. Sure, I’ll never get behind the need to wear Uggs or leave your house in your pajamas. There are other styles, like crotch-eating jeggings, that I will also never endorse. But unwashed hair is both disgusting and makes no damn sense. Examine it a little further and you can see that there has been an unwashed hair progression throughout the ages and it can only lead to one terrifying thing.
I’m guessing that at some point between the time Jesus was roaming around in his Birkinstocks and and let’s say, the 1800s when things started to get a bit more civilised, someone, somewhere put together some kind of concoction to get your hair clean. Hats of to whoever figured out the formula. From 1900-1950s, people were roaming around looking prim and proper, then came the 60s and hippies. These free-spirited incense burners were too busy smoking weed to to stick to any kind of hair care regimen. So when people say ‘peace and hair grease’ we know where that came from. Their hair was probably greasy as a muhfugger from lack of washing.
In the 90s came the grunge movement. Little known Bangs fact: as Junior Bangs, I went through probably a 2-3 year grunge phase myself. Oh yes my friends, I owned tie dye clothes and Doc Martins with multicoloured laces. I was all about Nirvana and Pearl Jam. In fairness, I was only about 11 and it was kind of born out of me mourning the disbandment of New Kids on the Block, but still, I was making a statement. But I could never been a true grunger. You know why? Because I liked clean hair. As much respect as I have for the musical stylings of Kurt Cobain, the man could’ve taken some time out a few times a week to enjoy a Herbal Essence moment, you know what I’m sayin’?
Now we’ve got hipsters. Characterised by their love of skinny jeans so tight they ruin any chance of ever being able to procreate, pointy shoes and being hardcore into bands that only they and three other people have heard of. Another hipster characteristic is a reluctance to wash hair, preferring instead, to let it form into a wild, dirty mess. That goes for the girls too. I was at a hipster gathering recently and I swear I wanted to walk into the place with a big ass hose like I was fighting a fire. Someone tell these people it’s cool to wash, please.
Anyway, my point is, all this reluctance to wash hair can only lead to one thing: white people with dreads. Under no circumstances do you want to become that douchebag. It starts with you getting dreadlocks, then you get a dog that you also refuse to wash, then you start wearing beads and shells and shit. I’m getting nauseous just thinking about it.
So you see folks, having a flea-ridden grease pit atop your head is not a good look. If you can’t be arsed to wash it, shave it off, but for the love of God, don’t become White Dreadlock Man.
Monday, October 5th, 2009
There’s been a lot of talk recently about black hair, thanks to Chris Rock’s documentary ‘Good Hair.’ It’s left a lot of white women completely baffled thinking, ‘Wait, you mean to tell me Beyonce’s hair isn’t naturally a bounty of bouncy locks down to her ass?’ Truthfully, if I didn’t have friends of every shade going, I would not be too well versed in the natural vs relaxed vs weave debate myself.
I have black friends with relaxed hair, some with natural and some who will swear they were born with a weave. I grew up trying to get my head around all the lotions and potions they had to put in their hair. Earlier this year, when I was in New York for my birthday, I went to the hairdresser with my friend. This was my first black hairdresser experience. If I were ever to go again, I will make sure I set aside six hours of my day and schedule meals to be delivered. We were only in there three hours and my friend informed me that was pretty good going. My hair is down to my ass and to wash, cut and blow dry this bad boy I don’t think has ever taken longer than an hour. So, I would like to take this time to applaud black women worldwide for their patience. I surely couldn’t do it.
With that being said, since about 2004, I have been keeping a very close eye on a worrying trend: white girl weave. A growing number of white women are experimenting with hair pieces, clip ins, wigs, what have you. The only thing is, I’ve never seen a good white girl weave. Every one I see, you can tell it’s fake a mile off. A few months ago, Meghan McCain (daughter of former presidential candidate John McCain) was on The View and was rocking the worst rat’s nest weave in the history of fake hair. What made it even more embarrassing was that part way through the show, a debate about weave erupted and McCain stayed unusually quiet. Near the end of the debate, she fessed up ‘well, my hair’s not all real,’ and everyone gave her a look of ‘no shit Sherlock.’ (I have combed the net for pictures of this atrocity, but thankfully, couldn’t find any).
I find blonde women tend to be the biggest fans of weave. I don’t know what it is about blondes but they all seem to have an inner desire to look like Dolly Parton. They’ll keep clipping extra bits in their hair until they can’t make it through a doorway.
But if it’s not weave, it’s highlights, lowlights, full colour – maximum damage. Why the hell can’t we just leave well enough alone?! Personally, I am part of a rare breed with virgin hair. I’ve never dyed it and have no desire to. I loathe highlights – on anyone. I think they look terrible. Unless you’re going to run your root touch-ups like a military operation, don’t even bother entering into a relationship with any kind of hair colour. It looks tacky.
Not to mention, peoples love of this oatmeal, sun-dusted, honey, cement coloured blonde is running so rampant through society right now everyone is literally starting to look the same.
So ladies, of all colours (skin and hair), I say embrace the natural! But hey, if you still want to go the way of the weave, when I cut my hair off, I’ll give it to the highest bidder – at least you’ll know it’s good hair.
Sunday, February 8th, 2009
So, I saw ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’. Quick synopsis for those that are interested; spend two hours shitting all over everything women think is true about relationships. Spend the last twenty minutes trying to tie it all together and make you believe there is hope after all. Bitch please. *Eye roll*
Tuesday, October 28th, 2008
I have waist length, dark brown hair, never been dyed, in pretty good condition (if I do say so myself). I don’t know what it is, but when people see my long hair, they seem to have an overwhelming urge to touch it. Completely uninvited. I suppose it’s somewhat like pregnant bellies. People just can’t keep their hands off them.
My area leader (who is gay) popped into my work place the other day and as we were chatting about business, he was running his fingers through my hair. All a bit odd. I kind of give gay men a pass – it’s like I’m their Barbie, I know that the stroking of my hair will not lead to the stroking of anything else. Nonetheless, as my manager, hair stroking is probably not the best thing to do during a business meeting.
Since I rocked the Bangs and a Bun all summer (wearing your hair down in hot temperatures, when you have this much of it, is not an option – you’ll suffocate yourself) a lot of people haven’t seen me with my locks loose and flowing. I’ve met a few people recently who’ll say ‘I love your hair! It’s so nice!’ and then I see their hand coming out of left field and making a bee-line for my head to touch it. I politely duck out of the way. People also love to say ‘It’s so long!’ Thanks for pointing that out. I spend 25 minutes straightening this bitch every morning – trust me, I know how long it is.
When I lived in Japan, my hair was the topic of much conversation. I was out one night with a few of my students, when the subject matter, once again, turned to my mane. One girl kept talking about how soft my hair looks and was complaining about how coarse hers is. What’s my secret, she wanted to know?
‘Almond oil,’ I say. ‘I put almond hair in my hair once a week and leave it in overnight. Makes it soft and shiny.’
‘You put what in it?’ She asked.
‘Almond oil,’ I said again.
Blank looks all around.
‘Almond oil. You know, almond oil. Like, the oil from…almonds,’ surprisingly, this explanation didn’t clear it up for them. I asked one of the other girls, whose English was a little better, how to say ‘almond oil’ in Japanese.
‘Ahh. Almondu Oilru,’ she said. It sounded pretty much no different to the way I said it originally, but as soon as I busted out this new pronunciation, about six of the Japanese girls I was with all said ‘Ahhhhhhh!!’ and nodded in unison.
When everything died down, one of the girls approached me shyly. ‘Can I touch your hair?’ She asked. You have to understand Japanese culture to know how much of a big deal that was for her to ask and how embarrassed she would have been had I said no. ‘Sure!’ I said. She gently grabbed a bunch of my hair and stroked it. ‘So soft!’ She exclaimed. She then insisted that I touch hers. By comparison, it was not as pleasant an experience for me. ‘You should really get some almondu oilru,’ I said.
So, if you see me with my hair down and you feel the urge to stroke it, let me clear the mystery up for you beforehand – yes, it’s soft, yes, it’s shiny, yes, it’s long. Your fingers don’t need to become entwined in it to confirm those facts. Unless you’re my mum, my man or my hairdresser, kindly keep your mitts off my mane.
*And yes, that is me in the picture. I believe that’s what you call ‘Tyra Mail’, bitches. Check out more of Knolig Works (photographer) stuff here