Over the years I have cobbled together something that might be interpreted as an eclectic style. This is not to say that I have had this perpetual affectation, just that somehow no matter what the current trends were, I always managed to syncopate to it. When I was in high school it was wearing Converse high tops, men’s shirts inside out, and donning a button with some witty saying on it each day.
Recently, it has been a chimera of librarian and city cyclist: cardigans, skinny jeans rolled up to avoid bike grease, and Converse low-tops. After consulting with the 20 and 30 something fashionable women in my department, this summer I highlighted the front part of my hair and let my natural brownish auburn with a few specks of grey come through the rest. I genuinely loved my hair all summer, and last week I may have had the best hair week in a decade.
But somehow the frivolous and frippy nature annoyed me, because it failed to present my mood. With a haircut scheduled for the following week, I decided to change the color completely: to darken it. With that in mind, I went to Walgreens and purchased a new, simple, mousse dye I’d never used before: dark auburn, it said.
Friday, I set about using this new, easier, simpler dye. No mix, no fuss, just shake and spray the mousse onto your dry hair, wait 30 minutes, wash, and et voila, no more grey, or in my case, no more dull auburn and blond.
Now, I knew the dye would act differently on the bleached part, but I expected a brighter red against a darker auburn. What happened was that I dyed my hair a deep, unnatural plum. Like a Crayola plum. And the bleached front looked less striking red and more magenta. I didn’t cry. I was so proud of myself.
That evening I brainstormed and decided to embrace the obviously dyed aspect of the hair. Call it out even more. I would go for an inverse version of my summer look. So, Saturday I purchased black dye. I painted the black over all of the front of my hair and a few streaks along my part predicting that I’d have these black locks in front the way I had had blond this summer. This time I went with a more traditional brand – no more mousse for me. Again with the ritual and the wait, and then the reveal.
In my head, I had envisioned a stark distinction that the black streaks would stand out against the auburn like the blond did before. Well, not so much. Moreover, what had been a cute little flip suddenly flopped from over-processing.
Little share about my self-perception here. I don’t find myself attractive, but I do have this benign and generally presentable image of myself in my head. Admittedly, in the last year or two when I take a selfie or catch myself in the mirror I am shocked by how old I look, but I can turn a certain way and kid myself into thinking it doesn’t look THAT bad.
But not so after this. It really did look THAT bad. I looked like an old lady who got a bad dye job to cover her grey. It reminded me of this Elder in the church I grew up attending. He was well into his seventies, dyed his hair pitch black like Elvis, and we all just kind of whistled to ourselves when he walked by.
Sigh. I can hear the whistling now.
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Addendum 10/13/15
Ok. Yesterday morning, Monday, after my shower, I determined, I’ll cut off all of the floppy, fried part, then see what the younger folks at work thought. Thirty minutes of snipping later, my cut was back to a very basic look; the black still prominent in front, but not quite as bad. No one laughed or whistled under their breath as I walked by. I wasn’t thrilled with the big black chunk in front, but without the side locks, I managed to make it through the day without wearing a hat. I decided I just need something to break up the front chunk.
So this morning, I pulled out hair bleach and painted and foiled a few strips in the front.
Honestly, it’s almost there.
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Addendum 10/18/15
Two days ago I saw the stylist. She squawked when she saw my hair and set about doing the best she could with it.
Without re-coloring it at all, she managed to work out most of the dark patch in the front and incorporate the highlights so that it looks consistent.
It no longer has a quirky/hip quality to it, but I dare anyone to whistle when I walk by.