I should have known better as soon as I clapped eyes on her. Long white blonde ringlets on a woman clearly in her early sixties isn’t a good look on anyone and this woman – my hairdresser- didn’t buck the trend.
I’ve been red for many years and prefer it to the subtle blonde highlights I had before that but it fades very quickly. I had reached that phase of complete fade to an orangey blonde and knew only further damage would get inflicted on my holiday. My friend opposite goes to a hairdresser she swears she only pays £38 for a cut and colour so I thought well, temporary measures I will go blonde for my holiday.
Gravelly smokers cough, the discussion in the salon ranging from the menopause to sex … The platinum blonde ringletted sixty year old poking her enormous long fake nails through my hair…But I was committed! Sat in that seat with bleach being put through my hair in plastic wrappers. What’s the worst that can happen? I will go back red in autumn anyway. (He by the way, told me never to change my hair as he loved the red)
Well what could go wrong is I am now bleached and parted with £70 for the pleasure. (Hmm must find out if my neighbour is paying oap or student prices ;)) A platinum brassy blonde looking like I belong behind a bar in an East end pub calling everyone love and serving them hot pot.
You know my neighbour used to call me Pat Butcher in our twenties because of my big earrings and now her dreams have been realised.