Fly Blown Mirrors and Crowning Glories

A friend cut my hair today. We sat in a dark shop storeroom in front of a fly blown gilt surround vintage mirror and though she had forgotten her glasses, I gave her carte blanch to do what she wanted.
She mused that she had never known a woman with an attitude like this towards their hair, something that I have heard many times.
I’ve always been like this; giving hairdressers and inebriated friends freedom and scope to work their creative and in some cases deranged urges out via my tresses.
This isn’t symptomatic of lack of vanity, and my indifference may partially be due to having an abundance of fast growing locks that quickly grow out and auto correct from any horror, but I actually love the risk and transformation although as I get older I’m aware that a decent cut is more of a necessity.
In my teens and early twenties, I would dye my hair a myriad of colours with hair dyes that weren’t as sartorially and chemically evolved as they are now.
I would bleach it with peroxide, colour it with gentian violet or the green liquid you put into fish tanks to kill fungus. If I was especially well off the Wella range of dyes with names like Bahama Blue and Emerald Green were my weapon of choice.
High end high priced celebrity hairdressers, back street barbers and squat dwelling friends on smack and downers with clippers who left the job half finished and caused both of us minor injuries; either way it brought the necessary change.
I’ve had periods when my hair grew so long that I could sit on it, then the best times, when it was cropped and I felt clean, light and free.
Trusting one friend, Mad Robin, an Australian squat mate in London whom the television set (when it was turned off) gave her the correct wins and places of the Melbourne cup thus funding her many years of travelling, gave me an insight into the stereotypical vengeful bitch mind of women which I had never previously encountered.
Robin was a trained hairdresser and said that she would bleach my hair for me. Now my dark hair has a lot of red in it, so strong bleach if well done, never gets my colour paler than a strawberry, reddish blond. Robin did the professional application, reassured me that the itching was normal, wrapped it more tightly in foil and reassured me again when I complained of the smell of burning.
The resulting multicoloured singed afro led to a necessary head shaving, and my finding out that Robin had a few issues with me.
My only pre requisite of a hair style is no effort maintenance. I don’t blow dry, style or use products and my brief foray into attempting these things, when I was accidentally given the popular Aniston ‘Friends’ cut, left me with a hairbrush trapped in my hair, feeling very inadequate about missing some essential childhood training in hair care.
The punk era was perfect for me; a hairstyle that incorporated dirt and sex knots into a ‘look’ was my idea of heaven.
So today I have one friend skilled in application of ‘nice and easy mid brown’ as well as the aforementioned friend with scissors and the flyblown mirror, and who knows, once my house sale goes through I may evolve to the point of paying for a salon cut that provides me with glossy magazines, a drink and a laconic lifting of my locks and outraged exclamation of ‘who in god’s name cut your hair last!’


About charlottejane2002

Author of 'P is for Prostitution', 'The Bloody Sacrifice' and co-editor of 'A Contemporary Western Book of the Dead' which are all published by Mandrake of Oxford. Italian publisher Roberto Migliussi has recently released 'The Sky is a Gateway, Not a Ceiling', a book of Charlotte's collected essays printed alongside images of his own art work. Charlotte is also an artist who creates spiritually directed art works from road kill and found objects. She has had her written work printed in anthologies and various magazines and on line publications and has given presentations at many events and institutions including Edinburgh University and Brooklyn's 'Museum of Morbid Anatomy'. Her art work has been exhibited widely including at London's Chelsea Gallery and The Bath Royal Literary and Scientific Institute, and is soon to be shown in New York.
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2 Responses to Fly Blown Mirrors and Crowning Glories

  1. Russell CJ Duffy says:

    If only I could do the same but follicles being currently challenged as it were may give up entirely if I applied you courage to my own ‘wig!’ LOL

  2. diannebaker74 says:

    Such a good read ! I was there – watching your haircut, and remembering how you looked as a young girl. Xx

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