Having a five-part product system dedicated to just 5O% of your head is 1OO% tiring. I honed my exhaustive hair wash routine to just twice a week in an attempt to minimise the sheer amount of hours spent shampooing it in bunches.
Colour-coordinated outfits, matching my make-up to my newly altered complexion, the unexpected threat of chlorine in swimming pools – everything was an issue for at least one half of my head. I wanted simplicity, sophistication and a head of hair to draw stares, not for its ‘wacky’ dip dye, but for its chic insouciance.Ī post shared by G E O R G E D R I V E R yet, ironically, the Catch 22 of being ‘cool’ is that you have to try really hard. And, as such, I had started to yearn for a more elevated style.
Having survived 29 years of transient hair trends (dodgy purple dip dyes, permed undercuts and misguided mullets each had its moment) only to shrug them off again once their allure – and their colour – had faded, I’d fallen into a rut of horrifyingly sensible hair. And I felt, for the first time in months, like I had reclaimed an essential part of ‘me’.Įleven months earlier, I was perched in the same leather salon chair, where an identical reflection sat eagerly awaiting an AW19 hair transformation. A woman whose cherry-red hair fell in carefully tonged bends around her face. I looked at my reflection and reacquainted myself with a woman I hadn’t seen in almost a year. Three and a half minutes later, it had disappeared for good. Sitting in a South London hair salon, I watched as, strand by strand, the clean white streak that had run through my hair faded away like an aeroplane trail in the sky. A post shared by G E O R G E D R I V E R moment it was there, and then it was gone.
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