Cult style

Two of my very good friends are getting married this year. I am excited about this for two reasons. Firstly, the idea of wearing an Isabella Blow worthy hat. And secondly, the thought of experiencing the joyous moment of seeing people I care about declare their love and commitment to one another in front of family and friends (wow that was a long sentence). But it’s mainly the hat thing.

When my friends announced their engagement I always knew I would be donning a hat on the big day. The 21st century really doesn’t afford me with enough occasions to wear anything other than a beret on my napper you see. So the plan was to get a massive fuck off hat and sob uncontrollably at the front of the registry office. For many months I have been scouring the globe (OK London) searching for the perfect head adornment. There will certainly be none of this token John Lewis feather fascinator malarkey going on my head! (I would quite like to channel some sort of bird or animal a la Carrie Bradshaw FYI).

However, over the past few weeks I found that this need to wear a huuuuugGGGEeee hat (although still there) has become secondary to sporting a rather fabulous and awe-inspiring hairstyle. A vintage homage to Katherine Hepburn if you will. Picture a thick glossy mane coiled into a croissant shape that boggles the mind with its sheer defiance of the laws of physics! The hat while still important, would not fight for attention with the bouffant, but would compliment it by perching on top perfectly. Of course a trip to the hairdressers will be necessary, but that’s OK because it signifies that I truly am a grown up. (I remember when I was a child and attended weddings with my mother, that on the morning of such an occasion the ‘ladies’ went to the hairdressers had their hair pinned up while I busied myself smoking candy cigarettes)

And then this morning I read this. And it suddenly occurred to me where this hairstyle that I envision so vividly, that has slowly come to fruition in my mind over the past few months, had unconsciously been sparked from. The Polygamic cult in America! GAH!

Is this how it starts? First I like the hair? Then I start buying the clothes they sell on-line? And before you know it I’ve moved to Texas bought me a bible and become a fully blown member of a cult?!

Unsurprisingly, this is not how I see my life going (who wants to dress in polyester and have only one tenth of a husband?). So it has come to pass that the hat will after all be victorious over the hair (which will be left au naturelle). This however, brings up a very different problem that has nothing to do with God. Where does one find a beautiful hat that every high-street department store hasn’t done a knocked off version of? Ebay is the obvious choice, but frustrated after hours of trawling their site and being outbid at the last minute *shakes fist* has lead me to decide that I want to splash out and treat myself.

So, after spending far to many work hours on the internet clicking endlessly on links and looking at some horrendous eyesores, I finally hit gold. Rachel Trevor Morgan has an amazing selection of hats, fascinators and hairpieces that suit all ages and styles. Young, old, conservative, exhibitionist… We are all catered for! And while this is not what I envisioned wearing to my friends wedding, I am particularly fond of this black number that is reminiscent of Dior’s New Look. Because if I can’t have the hair of that era without looking like a bible-bashing cult member at least I can have the hat.

Edith

GHD: You should be done (Because now I hate my hair)

I’d like you to cast your mind back to around 5 years ago, and think about what your hair used to be like… Remember those good times? The fun times? When hair was free, to do as it wanted, any ole time?

That was until the launch of the GHD: New religion in hair care (Thy will be done). And now, what are we? A nation of obsessed, split-ended, heat protection spraying, straightened clones! Even my mother has some GHDs, and I ask you all, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHY?It is very apt that GHD use the association of religion to market their product, because both these things are steeped in fear and conformity. (To be clear this is not a ‘DOWN WITH GHD’ campaign, because lord knows, I need em and I won’t pretend otherwise. It is just ‘Shit, what happened, man? I used to love my hair’. Because I did love it. I loved the random curls inter-mixed with straight bits and kinky bits. I loved that it had natural root lift and was unruly and messy. I even managed to embrace the fact that it was never sleek and chic like the girls on the adverts). Now almost everyone is obsessed with straight hair, and being scared of what our bouffant will look like keeps us reaching for the ceramics everyday.

For the past five years I (and most of Britain) have straightened my hair almost daily. Not always the whole head you understand, but at least the front section. Recently, I decided that my hair was starting to suffer a little (OK, it was my hairdresser’s shrieks that made me conclude this) and thought maybe I should lay off of a while.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, yeah right. Have you tried to go a day without using them? My hair now looks utterly ridiculous! I don’t think that this is down to my hair having changed either, but the fact that my perception of what it should do has changed. I am now programmed to think that hair should lie perfectly at 90 degrees. To make matters worse, I recently had my hair cut to resemble the wigs in the YSL AW 08/9 show. And well, while it looks fab when poker like, in au naturalle mode I literally look like I have a mushroom shaped head. Now, while the fact I now have two muffin tops may amuse my boyfriend in no end of ways, it doesn’t help me in the real world, simply because I have no intention of going to work looking like a vegetable.

So, I have a plan to ween myself off this beastly crack I call GHD. Starting with once a week, I will leave my hair to do as it pleases (this will of course coincide with being at home or the wearing of a rather fabulous hat) and progress from there to twice a week and so on. Obviously, this will all be utterly dependent on my hair growing into a more suitable vegetable shape though, something resembling celery perhaps? In the mean time, I am just going to keep praying to the gods that my hair won’t be done.

Edith