Tag Archives: hair colour

Ditching the blonde (at last)

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I adore my hairdresser. Finding someone in Dubai who can successfully turn a mousey barnet blonde, without any brassiness, bright orange or, heaven forbid, lime green, is like hitting the wheel of colour jackpot.

We’re at that stage in our relationship (over 4 years now) where I can plonk myself into the chair, eye up the pile of magazines, and ask for the usual. “Same again,” I shrug. And she sets to work, with plenty of friendly banter and a cup of tea.

The foils go in. The root colour goes on. All neatly stacked, without leaks or spills. Then off it all comes at the sink, where her quick-fingered assistant scrubs and massages your scalp till your nerve endings dance.

“Curls?” my hairdresser asks. “Or straight?” And, either way, I know the blowdry will be a sculpted work of art compared to my half-hearted efforts to tame my mane at home.

(If you contact me, I’ll even give you her number as I know well that the search for a skilled colourist in Dubai is a mission.)

Healthier-looking hair, but will I miss being blonde?

From high bleach to hamster: Healthier-looking hair, but will I miss being a blonde?

Occasionally, there’s even some drama in the salon, like the time a high-maintenance client whose curls had dropped overnight came back and threatened to call the police (that’s Dubai for you). But, mostly, it’s a predictably relaxing experience, that ends in blonde.

Until yesterday, when – after 30 years – I ditched the bleach and went darker. “I’ve been thinking about your hair,” she said and suggested some (kinder) changes. There was talk about skin tone and base colour, lowlights and ash tones. Much of which caught me off guard, until a photo was produced of a fair-headed model with the most beautiful mix of light-catching colours.

“Okay,” I hastily agreed, throwing all caution to the wind (oh, how I wanted her golden highlights).

So, how did it turn out? After three decades, my new darker look, I’ll admit, is taking some getting used to. There’s depth, and more shine, coupled with the fun of trying different coloured clothing and make-up. Son1 loved it (“I was getting bored with your hair Mummy!”). Son2 cried. DH said he liked it. As for me, after the shock wore off, it’s now growing on me.

Just a few more honey highlights next time, and I think I’ll love it.

Could bad hair days be over?

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You might, after reading this, think I’m really pampered – which I’m not, I promise. But when your DH goes to exotic destinations with 26 flight attendants (I’ll say that again, 26! most of whom are beautiful, perky-bosomed 20-something females), there’s a certain level of maintenance that’s required, especially post-child.

Along with several other ‘problem’ areas, my hair needs regular overhauls – mainly because I’ve always disliked it and have spent more than half my life changing its colour.

Over the years, my naturally mousey hair has been subjected to Sun-In, highlights, lowlights, spray blondes and shop-bought dyes. A hairdresser, aghast at the results of the latter and muttering about an extreme makeover, turned it brown, which I loved for a while, until it started fading and I went blonde again.

It’s also really thick, and while some might think this is an attribute, it’s really not and hairdressers can’t wait to use the thinning shears on me, chopping away with the serrated blades in zig-zags, my hair flying all over the room. But I’ve never liked the results of thinning it out because as soon as I wash it, it frizzes up.

It was with a frizz-free look in mind that I purchased a Brazilian keratin hair-straightening treatment on Groupon, in the hope that the promise of a formaldehyde-fuelled permanent blow-dry was true. Off I went today, in a billowing sandstorm, to the far-end of Dubai, wondering if the fact I’d got it for 78 per cent off was a cause for concern.

Two hairdressers smoothed a gloopy substance over my hair, set it under the hood dryer, then straightened each section of hair, while conversing in Tagalog – for all I know, telling each other my barnet was like a bird’s nest.

For my wedding, spiral curls

“You want drink?,” offered one of the stylists. “Coffee, tea?” To which I responded, always reverting to overly polite English in situations like this, “Yes, please … Black tea, please. Thank you.”

“Ma’am, no black tea. Just red,” she replied (thankful, I was, that I wasn’t having hair colour done too).

Towards the end, my hair looking as flat as a pancake (in a good way), she gave me some instructions.

“You will iron, yes? From tomorrow.”

“Um, yes, I’ll iron,” I nodded in agreement, thinking wasn’t this keratin cure meant to mean I could put the straighteners away?

It's straight, for now!

“And wash it off in three days, using this 320dhs (£55) organic keratin-strengthening shampoo and gel.” (which they bagged up for me and rung up on the till in a flash)

When I got home, my boys peered at me, noticing something – not quite sure what – was different.

“Mummy, you look bea-ooootiful,” said my Big Boy, having learnt long ago that saying nice things like this gets him a disproportionately favourable reaction.

The little boy, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking hard, enquired, “Mumm-eeee, youf hadd-a hair wash?”