I'm going to take you on a journey down Memory Lane, that has many dark and treacherous twists and turns, where extreme peril can lurk and strike at any moment. For this isn't just my story, this is the story of Generation X - a journey of HAIR. Many of you may have come on the same journey as me, many of you may have taken a different, equally scary path, but we have all ended up in the same place: MIDDLE AGED AND GREY. And what a relief that is, as you will see for yourself.
The journey will begin from the present and work it's way back through the mists of hairspray being burnt off by crimpers to the sunny days of my childhood. Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be turbulent.
Into the light!
|Still some washed out bleach/purple - my first pixie cut since 1989. I like to call myself Pinhead here. Paul Weller in a short hair phase springs to mind...|
|Directions hair colour - just one last time. Did this the day before meeting my potential new boss. Hmm, didn't want the job anyway...|
|Awful, I knew it had to end. My nightmare toxic relationship with hair dye. My nightmare toxic aversion to just being, er, me. My hair was like fluffy chewing gum. Clumps were falling away every time I moved, breathed. Or had a brain function.|
| Ahh, those heady first days of a fresh bleach, when thoughts of a
young Paula Yates (more about her another time but only good things, not
like Thatcher - don't get me started.). Ahhh Paula Yates' hair
|Terrified by the regrowth, I dived for my knee jerk default colour dye option YET AGAIN. Black. But this time, even Adobe Photoshop can't hide the fact that it is extremely unflattering to my 40 year old skin. Panic sets in.... What next?!|
|I knew I was stalling. Still on maternity leave I thought, WTF. I'm still young! I can do what I want!! So I invested in about 12 tubs of varying shades of Directions hair dye. Rock and Roll. Except not. |
|Ignore the timecode on this - I don't have a camera that can look into the future. It's lying. Like I was, with my terrible yellow hair. I HATED my hair here. And who wouldn't. Felt like straw, looked like, erm, straw. Nice one.|
|Yup, ginger again, another strategy.|
|The half and half. Dyed brown underneath, dyed red on top. Classy. With my sister , who will feature heavily in future.|
|Wedding - My hair was very long, below bra length. It had been brown, but days before my wedding in 2006, I panicked and dyed it black - it felt safe. I think I look ok. But my hair, to me now, looks very fake.|
|This is what happens when you dye your hair when it's very long. You can't see what's happening to it. The bottom 6 inces of my hair was a weird burgundy/red colour while the top around my scalp was black. I had no idea!|
So here is the evidence that I was 50% grey when I was 30. Here my hair is already full of years of black/brown/red dye. My solution? Ignore it and carry on dying and growing of course!
|Dye, grow, dye, grow......|
|My 30th with the BF.|
A variation of my classic goth look. Dyed dark brown. At this stage I'm already having to redo the roots every 4 weeks.
|Probably my last shot of natural looking roots with no grey. But look at the red ends - most of that are hair extentions. A regular flirtation of mine. Nice thick 90s eyebrows!|
|Graduation party with Uni BF 1993|
Not my hair! The stuff at the roots is, the rest are hair extensions down to my bum. Thought it looked good at the time.
|The henna haired, corkscrew curls look.|
|Dyed ginger AND crimped. With pearls. Oh just help me.|
|Black hair with greeny blue streaks in the fringe. Nice.|
|Goth. Black. 1987|
|Goth black. With red bits, 1986.|
|Dyed black for the very first time. Very into Rockabilly chic. 1985|
|Ok, probably the one photo I WONT apologise for. I love this. Me and BF in the Summer of 1985 outside Birdies Restaurant in Harbour Street in Whitstable about to watch the Carnival. We rocked that hair and good. - See below for this image...|
The Hurting by Tears for Fears.
The clothes by Snob.
The hair by Shaders and Toners.
|Teen hatred. Oh the stroppiness. The hair is dyed with Shaders and Toners Burnished Copper. My very first dye.|
Dear Sal (my sis) is doing the right thing here and refusing to pose for my Dad. My poor poor poor Dad.
|Age 7 1977.|
Yup, The NHS's best - pink National Health Glasses with the boingy metal holdy-on-the-ears bits that give you migraines.
My hair colour here is the same as my eldest two sons - light brown with a bit of red.
So, you can see that my hair has had a lot to contend with over the years.But like an old pit pony that has emphysema, I'm putting my old grey hair out to pasture to have one last frollic in the sunshine!