BLEACH BOY
This morning while en route home from getting my hair cut, I came across a headline on ES magazine "Bleach babes" ... written by Mr Porter editorial director; Drew Barker. The article charts the bleach blonde phase sweeping London, of which I am evidently a part of. From Lucky Blue Smith to Zayn Malik. It appears I've followed the zeitgeist in lightening up for 2016. But the bleach boy extends much further than 2016, there was the runaway hit Trainspotting, Robbie Williams in his glory and we can trace the trend all the way back to Kurt Cobain's grungy tresses. Alas, this year wasn't my first foray into the land of the bottled blondes. Enter a 12 or 13-year-old me ...
I was telling a coworker about the first time I went blonde around 13 years ago. "Who let you dye your hair at that age?" she replied outraged.
Throwback : with my favourite bottle blonde Nana and my two sisters!
My mother of course. She's always been a firm believer that hair is hair. Her belief was that it turns out awful I was luckily in a position to just shave it off and start fresh. From 13 on I'd cycled through; blonde, yellow, brown, red and then in an effort to reset I went jet black (disastrous!). N.B Very few people have actual black hair, even my seemingly "black" hair is actually just dark brown with natural red highlights.
I'd also run the gamut of cornrows, twists, designs shaved into my head - you name it - I tried it!
My mother always firmly stood behind both my wild sartorial style and choices in the hair salon. When a 13-year-old TK was being bullied at school and the principal suggested I lose my blonde hair (so I wouldn't stand out as much) my mother leaned across the principal's desk with a firm, "No."
As Andrew Barker so eloquently wrote in this week's ES article, "in the 2000's .... dyeing your hair was more boring than not."
Everyone was doing it. I was simply ahead of the trend.
Fast forward to 2016, (and subtract the box bleach kit) and I decided that platinum was the shade for me. Of course going from dark brown to white-blonde wasn't easy. Luckily while home in Toronto, I visited a dear friend's salon who was able to make the lift in one go. A few hours in the chair, and a gin & tonic or two later I emerged, reinvented with white hair. No head burning, minimal hair loss and a fresh trim - I was ready to relive the glorious Noughties. The work of a true professional. (Sincere apologies to my cousins who did an excellent job of dyeing my hair in their bathroom sinks in 2001!)
Whether it's a 90's grunge redux or throwback to the grown out roots of Andy Warhol... I'm definitely having more fun as a blonde. And intend to keep it this way for as long my (oh so damaged) hair will allow!
Now maintaining my platinum tresses is another story ...
