Saturday, 28 February 2015

Going for 'The Snip'

You see those kinda girls who step out, all preened and glossy, with perfectly blow dried hair and freshly manicured nails?

courtesy of
Yeah...I'm not one of them.

Sadly, I'm the girl who has chipped nail polish, unkempt hair, the type that always gets told off by the hairdresser for not having a cut sooner. (This is when I tell them that my last trim was 6 months ago when really, it was more like, a year ago.)

I wasn't really 'glam', growing up in Bristol. Living with my parents who didn't have a passion for fashion, taught me that beauty comes from within. (Cheers, Pops.) They proceeded to dress me in hand me downs, Diadora shell suits, and my older sister's Puma tracksuit bottoms. I was hardly the cool kid. 

I'm pretty low key. I don't plan how I'm going to wear my hair. Like, at all. I normally have my rotating selection of 3 or 4 shampoos. I'm currently favouring Timotei's 'Pure' range, or Khiel's Rice and Wheat Volumizing shampoo, as my hair is so fine and needs a bit of a perk me up from time to time.

Once the shampooing and the dousing of conditioning is done (only at the ends, no no on the roots), I spray on either a) Aveda Volumizing Tonic or b) Bumble and Bumble salt spray and give it a quick 10 minute run with the dryer. Done. No muss. No fuss.

But last week, as I was blasting away with the trusty hairdryer (albeit slightly faulty as it turns itself off from time to time) I thought 'What about...a fringe.'


Going over to the dark side of daily fringe maintenance?

Waking up an extra 15 minutes earlier just to analyse how bad it looked or if it could pass by spritzing on some dry shampoo and giving it a good comb?

Having to deal with potential cowlicks that I can't deal with because I don't know how to blow dry properly?


Why would I put myself through the torture?! Needless to say, the decision was pretty simple.
I booked myself in at Barber & Parlour, Shoreditch.

OK, I knew I was going to be putting myself through hell - I hadn't had a fringe since 1994 and the possibility of a spotty forehead (hm, a valid point) and the hours spent blow drying and flat ironing will be endless... but screw it.
I like a challenge.

The building used to house Aubin & Wills, (the grown up version of Jack Wills). Sadly, they closed their doors back in 2013.

Barber & Parlour offers everything you need: you can eat there, drink there, get yourself groomed, your talons manicured and even watch a film - all under the same roof.

I rocked up on a quiet-ish Friday evening and was shown upstairs to the first floor and plonked into my seat.

I get anxious when I have any hair related things done. It brings me out in a cold sweat. There have been countless times where I have sat through hair appointments with the over excited stylist cutting my hair way shorter than I had hoped for, or when I've asked for lighter pressure when having my hair washed, but instead felt like my scalp was being attacked by a Brillo pad.

I sat down nervously, but relaxed when we chatted about what kind of fringe I liked. I showed my stylist Keira a picture of Aisling Bea's new 'do and was then told - 'Hm, this one is quite an extreme one - you wouldn't be able to get away with it without blowing drying that everyday'.


She also added 'Hm, your hair has a very strong parting, it may not fall the way you want it to fall'.

Sigh - so far, my hair was failing me.

As I was getting my hair re-highlighted as well, we decided to do that first before deciding on what kind of fringe was right.

Fanned out in front of me was a selection of the following: Vice, Marie Claire, Tatler and Vogue (I think Cosmo was there too, but can't be sure).

I picked the Vogue as I felt like I needed my 'I love these Manolos but can't afford' fix. Somewhere between reading Gisele's interview and sipping my Clipper breakfast tea, I saw a picture of Alexa Chung sporting a seemingly effortless fringe, looking ever so cool, as usual. I knew I had to have.

Skip past the 2.5 hours of foils and bleach, the scary washing hair bit (but this time, I enjoyed because Keira was gentle) to the moment of: The First Cut.

My hair was being sectioned off, the moment was getting closer. She took the scissors out, whilst brushing my strands of hair forward and I could hear my heart beat and my palms were getting sweaty. 'Hm... I can back out now.. it's not too late..' I repeated in my head.

I could see a sliver of silver in the corner of my eye, edging closer and closer... and then, *snip*.

Done. I was now left with some sad looking wet strands, draped across my forehead.

OH. GAWD. What have I done???!!!

I did it - no going back now. She quickly went to work and blow dried the rest of my hair like an absolute pro. Finally - this is where the magic happened. My 5 minutes of regret were shelved when she combed the sad looking strands of fringe and blow dried them and transformed them.

I now am the proud owner of bangs:

I spent the next ten minutes thanking her profusely and literally pranced out of the salon and all the way back home. (I made an observation but whilst making my way home, on the Overground, I had admiring glances from not 1, but 3 dudes... maybe men also love fringes? Who knew?)

Who knew a simple change could make us feel so different?

After, I took my new do out for dinner and bowling with Bristol mates at Pizza East, and generally spent the weekend swishing and admiring the new do and lavishing on the 'oh you look so different!' comments.

Just as I was getting used to the fact I could handle the glossy/preened look I talked about earlier, trouble strikes - my bubble burst when I attempted to blow dry my hair a few days later and managed to get a few strands of the fringe singed off due to my overheated and temperamental hairdryer. Sigh.

Disclaimer: I told you I wasn't one of those 'perfectly preened' girls... sigh

F x


  1. Looks great!! I haven't had bangs since I was eight. It was NOT a good look for me. Plus, it scarred me for life a little because Mum used to trim them with her terrifyingly sharp and enormous dress making scissors, and I was always petrified that she'd accidentally cut off my ear or something...

  2. Argh! Sadly, that did happen to a mate a couple years back - her ear got nicked by the hairdresser :S


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