Hairstyling: A Cautionary Tale
A few weeks ago, after having my hair dyed a very normal brown-red (no blue or magenta for a while) I explained to a friend that it would look much better, only I can't style it to save my life. As you know, short hair is not my thing. My stylist had to spend some time showing me what to do to make it look like something intentional. She managed to make it look pretty and I had hope.
But back at home, all the product and scrunching in the world couldn't make my hair look like Halle Berry's. I don't know where I went wrong, but no matter what I did, it just sort of...flopped.
My friend seemed to find this incredibly amusing. "You're saying that you, Alix North, can't style HAIR?" She snorfled like this was the funniest thing she'd heard all day. "I find this amazing!"
I could feel my feathers ruffling - or flopping - in response. I mean, this wasn't always true. There was a time when I could style my hair like nobody's business.
That, of course, was in the 1980s: the heyday of big hair. Curling irons, heat rollers, blow driers, gel, mousse...they were my allies. I'm sure my triceps were in much better condition then just from all the time I spent standing in the bathroom each morning, arms overhead, reaching back to adjust the rollers.
I was born with hair that was straight as all get-out, so after a while I started getting air-oxidized perms to bring some life to it. "Air perms" involved having a stylist tightly wind 100 plastic rods into my hair, add lots of perm solution, and then send me home overnight. By keeping the rods in for 24 hours, the stylist didn't have to neutralize the perm solution. Supposedly this kept the hair healthier and bouncier. I had to sleep sitting up and my cat hid from me, stretching up occasionally to peek at me over the footboard of the bed with enormous eyes, but I thought it was worth it. Of course, once the perm was in, I'd then need to corral the curls with more product and hot instruments, so it was no short cut. But because, back then, it seemed that the worst thing on earth would be to have straight, un-styled hair, the sacrifice seemed important.
Over the years, though, things began to shift. I think the first thing that happened was that my arms got tired. Tendonitis and all that. I ditched the hot instruments. Then products stopped being called gel or mousse and got names like crystal enlivening mud, protein volume enhancer, and texture replasticizing treatment. After the third visit to the beauty supply shop where I found myself spending twenty minutes staring blankly at the shelves, only to walk out empty-handed, I went without product.
I fell back to just the spiral perms, as though that could carry the load. I had very funny hair for a while.
Then came the mid-90s, when, in an unbelievable stroke of luck, straight hair came back into vogue. Suddenly, celebrities were showing up with long, lovely locks and even straightening the curls they already had. I smiled smugly to myself and let my artificial curls fall away.
It was shortly after that when I realized...wait a second...hair dries by itself! Why the heck am I wasting time blow-drying it? It's always going to come out straight anyway - there is no "adding volume" to my hair type! So I gave up the blow-drier and let my hair return to its glossy natural state.
Entirely unfashionable, perhaps, but I had lots of fun whipping my head around like a Breck girl, just to see all that shiny, straight hair fan out. Yeah, perhaps I had not so many friends during that period. ("Alix, Alix! I'm talking to you! Are you looking at your hair again?")
It seemed like I had finally come to a place of hair acceptance. What I did not know, and what I want any young readers to realize, is that I while I thought I was making choices, I was not.
I was losing my hair styling powers FOREVER!
Sure, I fantasized that I could, at any time, just pick up a hot instrument or fancy-pants product and make my hair do my bidding. Oh, how little I knew!
Now that years have passed and various styling moments have ended in disaster and tears, I've figured it out. I've come to understand that each of us is born with a certain amount of hairstyling power. It's a power that seems to favor the female of the species and one that is clouded in mystery. None of us knows, truly, how much power we are born with. Cocky and self-assured, I thought my own powers were endless, not realizing they could not sustain me past the Great Hairstyling Trials of the 80s. Had I known that, I would have rationed my powers much more severely. But I did not, and so my hair flops.
So, young ones, take heed. Oh, right now it seems like you'll be curling, fluffing, spiking, straightening, and French-braiding yourself for another five decades. But you don't know that. The goddess of styling is a fickle goddess, and she may withdraw her gifts at any time. Be free and follow your heart, but I'm just sayin' that perhaps you might want to take Tuesdays and Thursdays off. Just in case.
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Unfortunately, you seem to have received the lion's share of the hairstyling talent in this family. It certainly didn't matter how much time I took on my hair, it was back to it's straight and heavy self an hour later. Needless to say, I found no reason to learn such things as french braiding, which didn't seem like such a bad thing until your nieces were born. The best I was able to manage was a regular old braid, which I found out years later is "upside down." Apparently, in my own left-handed way, I was able to create a braid exactly the opposite of everyone else. My response to "Mom, can you do ___ to my hair?" is usually, "Doubtful, but we can try."
Fortunately, daughter #2 has the talent of two generations, unlike her sister, who has her mother's hair.
Your hair was always heavier than mine, it's true. Mine was fine and slippery.
Of course, now that I have no styling powers left, we are even. ;-) As to your middle child, I'm guessing her hairstyling mojo will last a long time. Must come from her father's side of the family, or some good deed she did for a fairy. I can't explain it.
Hair has been a constent mystery to me. I appreciate babes who can style their hair making it look all fab and such. But me? No chance! I can wash it:) I can blow dry it:) I even try to blow dry it with a large round brush...but, I don't think that I am doing it right because my finished "do" doesn't look ANYTHING like it does when I leave the salon.
AH well....guess I can't be good at everything. I still can't figure out how to use eye liner...go figure!
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