When I was a little girl my mum used to take me to have my super-fine hair cut at the hairdresser at the top of our road in Hornchurch, “La Vivienne”. Mum would lament the fact that she had lovely thick, curly hair and here was her daughter with fine “can’t do thing with it” hair. Vivienne would agree and I would sit there feeling ashamed. VIvienne would complain that my hair was knotty and my Mum would nod sadly. I really feel sad for my five year old self when I remember this and these visits undoubtedly contributed to a life-long inferiority complex about my hair and looks in general. When I was eight we went to visit my Mum’s Auntie Nora who lived in Southport. I had never met her before and, upon being introduced, Nora remarked sharply that my hair was untidy. Mum immediately took me to a nearby hairdresser and my hair was cut into a “Purdy”, a style named after Joanna Lumley’s character in The Avengers. I was then re-presented to Nora to see if I was now acceptable. Once I reached the age of ten Mum made me have my hair cut very short. I hated it and the other girls would ask why my hair was cut like a boys. No wonder I had such little self-confidence growing up.

As a child the only hair product we had in the house was Johnson & Johnson’s “No More Tears” shampoo. I can’t remember washing my hair more than once or twice a week and it became greasy very quickly. When I was fifteen I purchased some lemon shampoo in Boots and began washing my hair every other day and it was suddenly SO much better. Between the ages of sixteen and twenty one it was usually permed at a salon in Romford Market which gave it a bit of life. Who remembers scrunch-drying their permed hair with a diffuser attachment? At twenty one I went to a very posh hairdresser in Elm Park and began to have it hi-lighted. The hairdresser was called Melanie and she was lovely. For the first time in my life I felt like my hair actually looked good. I had a well-paid job at the time and only used Paul Mitchell products. Having hair professionally coloured is a pricey business and it is probably still my biggest personal expense. A few years ago I went to a local hairdresser who declared that hi-lights are “brassy not classy” and persuaded me to have an all-over tint. It came out orange and I never went back. I actually don’t think she knew how to properly hi-light hair.

Me, aged eighteen, with my permed hair

Until the pandemic I would wash and blow dry my hair almost every day. Now it is every other day. It is still a huge chore although it dries quickly. A friend of mine can wash her hair fortnightly and it still looks bouncy and clean. It really isn’t fair. My hair is in a perpetual blonde bob of variable length, I suspect I will be wearing this way when I am eighty, if I live that long. My favourite Elvive shampoo has just been discontinued so I am using some Treseme that I picked up in the supermarket. The conditioner is actually perfect, very lightweight and rinses out easily.

So the moral of this story is be careful how you speak about your children especially when they are within earshot. If someone is unkind about them take your business elsewhere. If an elderly relative deems your child to be unacceptably unkempt then leave their stuffy old living room never to return.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Header Photo by Adam Winger on Unsplash