I had been a redhead (courtesy of Schwarzkopf Red Passion) for around 12 years. For the last two, I’ve been after going back to my natural colour of brown with a balayage effect but have been too scared to take the plunge. With the wedding drawing closer, I thought there was no ‘time like the present’ to get my barnet looking on point for the 17 November.
Thank God I made the change in May, because we’ve sure got a helluva long way to go before I can get married.
Let me talk you through it. Seen as though Pinterest is my new fixation, I decided to scour the source of all things inspirational to find exactly what I wanted this mane on top of my head to look like at the end of it. I booked in to see my regular hairdresser – who has done a fine job of highlighting my redness for the last three years – and sat down in the chair.
Three hours later and I look like a bumblebee. The top of my hair is pretty much black, the bottom and underneath a vibrant yellow. As I leave the salon with wet hair (I’m not a huge fan of heat-treating my hair as I’ve got awesome natural waves) I wondered why people in Asda were looking at me. I thought it was just because the new ‘do’ made me look like an absolute mega-babe. I was wrong.
When I got home and looked in the mirror I cried until I was sick. Then I phoned the only person who can deal with me in time of crisis, Lo. She told me to call the hairdresser and insist on a fix. Although I hate complaining (never, I hear you say) I did it and soon the owner of the hairdressers was round at my house checking out the disaster. We also had prosecco.
Convinced to return the next day to solve my drama, I reluctantly showed up at 8.30am with a massive hangover. A full day in the salon and the managed to turn me from bumblebee into a 1990’s popstar with dark brown hair and streaks which looked like they’d been put in with that hair mascara we all used to wear when we were 13. Only this looked like some schoolgirls had switched my mascara for tippex.
It was unreal.
So, with just one more day booked off work and no hats worthy of being worn outside of the house, I began to panic. Being relatively new to Mirfield, I don’t really know the go-to places for a decent hairdo (although I can now tell you all where NOT to go) so at 10pm, I got on the internet and made a list of people to ring at 9am the next day.
After calling what felt like every single salon in the West Yorkshire area, I finally found Nicole at Studio 18 Hair and Beauty in Huddersfield. Although she was fully booked, I think she felt a bit sorry for me when I started blubbing down the phone. 30 minutes later I was sat in the chair.
She went on to dye my entire mop blonde (think Eminem or Sisqo in his Thong Song days), she finally started to turn me something that resembled brown with a handful of highlights through the bottom. Although my hair is now in the worst condition of my entire like, at last, I had something that can be seen in public.
Although it took me a good few days to be able to look in the mirror and like what I saw, it’s certainly better than it was. Granted, it’s a long way from how I want it to be, but I’m booked in again just before my big 3-0 to see if she can make it any better.
Morale of the story? Find a bloody good hairdresser and stick with them. Don’t decide to change your hair before you get married. I’m really, really worried I’m going to have to wear a baseball cap in place of a veil. Oh, and if anyone wants to send me hair care gifts for my birthday, that would be wonderful.
Either that or a puppy.