Welcome to my new blog layout! It's not entirely finished yet, I am still not satisfied with the fonts and need to install some social buttons, but other than that I think it's looking good in it's new white croco-leather outfit. A bit unusual, a bit unexpected but certainly very me.
Now what I want to talk about today is my hair, or better, the end of a 14 years war. That is because up until my 8th birthday I was completely satisfied with the hairstyle my mum chose for me: short, boyish, easy to wear.. Even though all my girlfriends in school had long, girlish locks I was juuust fine with my shorty-short chop. This was until my mum decided I had to do something cultural once I didn't want to play the flute anymore (because I hated my music teacher so much). And let this cultural something something be Hungarian folk dance that comes with pretty folk dresses and hair worn in braids - that, as we all know, requires a certain length of hair.
So my hair (hand in hand with my misery) started to grow out. It was terrible, really. It was just growing and growing and I hardly knew how to make a ponytail because I had short hair for as long as I could remember. Soon enough though my sister invested in a hot iron which marks a new era in my life. I realized that I don't necessarily have to put up with my hair that was growing in a strange, wavy manner. It can be straight and shiny and fabulous. And it was, until I stepped out the front door and made my way to the bus station where my hair went back to its normal condition: weird and wavy, thanks to humidity.
So I went through my teenager years in a constant fight with my hair, lot of bad hair days and occasionally a good hair day, starting my mornings with plugging in the hot iron even before I went to the bathroom and trying to make myself like my natural waves with no success. It was just so much better straightened. I invested a considerably big percentage of my pocket money into hairstyling products that promised straight hair. They all lied. Nothing gave me straight hair, expect my hot iron.
|Would have done anything for straight hair...|
Enough is enough. Two years ago I started to grow my hair (I was inspired by those mermaid pictures, you know where hair serves as bra). I wanted to reach a lenght that I never had. But it got harder and harder so I went for a chop. And it changed everything.
Rob Peetoom salons. Since lot of their salons are located in the most prestigious shopping mall of Holland (de Bijenkorf) I had a good feeling about it. Getting my hair cut between Alexander Wang pumps and Michael Kors purses? Hell yeah!
I got a very sophisticated, shoulder length cut from Anouk in the Hague salon. I only chose her by mistake while I was booking my appointment online and I liked her name. But she was real kind, explained me why I have not much chance to grow my hair very long and gave me some advices on how to blow dry my hair to make it seem more voluminous. The whole hairdresser experience was just amazing (did I mention the massage chair in action while they were washing my hair?) and I am sure that I will go back soon.
|My hairspiration that I showed to the hairstylist|
I am now proud to say that the war is over. It turns out, a good cut is really the only thing you need for a good hair day. The rest (hot iron, styling products) is just there to turn it into a great or fabulous hair day.