A Hair Raising Tale

So following on from my wax lyrical on the Italian hairdresser I now need to expand on subsequent events. I went to said hairdresser because since the birth of my youngest one my hair has started to turn grey. Not too much but enough that my vanity be offended and I need to address matters. Generally speaking  this can be done out of a packet and in the privacy of my own bathroom but now that my shaven locks have started to grow back, I can no longer take a back seat in the grooming stakes and I revert to the professionals. So when I found myself in Italy with time on my hands and a fabulous local salon no doubt practiced in dealing with colouring like mine (I might be of Polski/Russki origins but the Egyptian in me mixes it all up and I have the hair of a latino) I jumped right in. I emerged a woman transformed. Not only was my hair a glossy dark brown in all the right places, but it was also hanging straight and in my trademark bob.  Now this may not seem like a big deal but please remember that I was a skinhead in December and it has been growing vertically in a number of ill considered directions up until now. In fact I had gotten so used to my unruly mop that I had not even bothered to think about whether it might possibly be at the stage where I could shape it into something vaguely chic. So when I walked out of the Parrucchiere like a butterfly from a chrysalis I realised I was ‘back’ and not one further moment could be wasted on bad hair days. I poste haste booked myself an appointment for straightening at Daniel Hersheson and that was where I was returning from yesterday afternoon in all my newly polished glory when I bump into Alexandra Shulman outside Vogue House.

In my world Alex Shulman is about as cool as they come. Number one - she is the editor of Vogue. Number two – she is the editor of Vogue.  She is uber smart, she is loved and respected by all who work for her and she has done it all whilst building a family and having her life. In my eyes - she rocks. She is also very nice so I stopped for a brief chat feeling rather pleased with myself for controlling my urge to grab her and grill her on exactly how she does it whilst at the same time managing my nerves. ALEX SHULMAN!!!! I did notice that her eyes were tending to travel up to my head  slightly in the manner of someone checking over someone’s shoulder for a better prospect but unless she was hoping to see the BFG it was an unlikely social tic and I put it down to the sun being in her eyes. It wasn’t until I got in the car and checked in the rear view mirror to inspect my newly straightened locks that I realized that my hair was literally standing on end and waving gently in the breeze as though I had been electrocuted! Nooooooooo! Alex Shulman!!!!!!!!!!!!

Picture courtesy of ayoungscientist.com

Of course I hot footed it back to the salon who (rightly) assured me that the product needed a couple of hours to settle. But why oh why did my hair have to misbehave in front of Alex Shulman. It is nearly as shaming as the time I went to the Elle Style Awards in a see through dress and last season’s knickers.