There comes a point in every platinum blonde’s life when, put quite simply, they get So Tired Of Your Shit. ‘Your’ being directed at the hair, ‘Shit’ used to cover the erroneous ways in which being a platinum blonde totally ruins your life. For all its many positives (and trust me, there are many), being platinum blonde is also a royal pain in the ass.
My second stint as a Platinum (because yes, it does deserve to be referred to simply as a capitalised ‘platinum’) was rather a beautiful one. My hair quite literally illuminated the darkness, providing as it did a more homeopathic remedy to the difficult situation I found myself in during the last few months. And for those dark winter months my hair shone like the moon, with a lightness that lent itself at times more to transparency than actual whiteness. Draco was my spirit animal, Kim-K-in-Paris my pin-up.
The unfortunate thing about shining like the moon is that it requires bleaching, and bleaching is a bitch. Yes, everyone says it and yes, every single time we ignore it, always in pursuit of the kind of silver halo’ed effect that lifts an entire outfit of black to Lucky Blue Smith status. My last session was done in hast the night before going to Paris, and I noticed, as I had during the previous couple of sessions, that my scalp was hurting more and more every time.
I was becoming aware that if I kept abusing my hair as I was, it wouldn’t be long till I had none left. When it was wet I literally couldn’t get a brush through it – no one needs that shit. Faced with the risk of being a baldy, my Worst Nightmare número uno, I took matters into my own hands and embraced what nature gave me… With a shit-tonne of chemicals. First I tinted it a salmony orange, then dyed it with Casting Creme Gloss in 603, Honey Chocolate. The shade was ok, if a little green due to the undertones, and it had a slight transparency to the colour, but this was to be expected.
A week later it went 534, Chilli Chocolate, my favourite of the bunch; a spicy auburn colour which picked up the light beautifully and gave me a natural looking brunette. However after having it cut a lot shorter, the places where my hair had been unbleached were notably darker and redder than the bleached bits, which progressively lightened to a golden brown with a hint of green. Have you ever watched your hair colour literally wash down the drain? Because I have.
Most recently I’ve gone to the dark side, having been inspired by Kendall Jenner’s recent GQ cover. Maybe unfortunately, maybe not, it kind of went a little bit black. The last time I was black haired, I looked like some sort of sick Italian punchline, but this time its actually not too bad. The following comments have ensued; “You look so much straighter”, “I think I prefer this to the blonde” and the surprisingly popular “Fucking hell I didn’t know you were you then”. At least now, at the end of this trial, my hair finally matches my soul.