I’m drinking coffee mixed with Nesquik and trying to figure out how twitter works (why is everything so hard?). I couldn’t find one single spoon in my kitchen so I had to stir my coffee with a fork. I feel like that’s a metaphor in my life but I can’t figure out how to word it. I should be studying Spanish but Rosetta Stone has been patronizing lately and I’m not in the mood to be sassed about sports and renting skies (trust me Rosetta Stone, that vocab is falling on deaf ears, so just RELAX). I got an ugly (but free!) bike last week from an eccentric friend looking to absolve some karmic debt before hopping a train to Austin. It’s the sort of bike a teen in the suburbs would ride to high school; I even bought a matching helmet because I have an over-developed sense of self-preservation. San Francisco definitely has a pervasive biking culture, so I do feel like a dick next to all these hill-bombing courier-foxes on fixed gears, but I like to think my lack of finesse is enchanting (I fell off the bike trying to dismount yesterday. It wasn’t even moving).
I’ve been trying to get out of the apartment more lately, so this bike is greatly appreciated. Especially on Mondays when some of my housemates and many other unapologetic dorkwads within a 10 block radius come over to play D and D. To each his own, but the common area is indisposed, not available for more mundane purposes which don’t include 20-sided die, bards, mages, and about 8 late-20s programer dudes with loosened ties and ipads full of dungeon spreadsheets.
So this particular Monday I grabbed the bike, struggled down the stairs, knocking over houseplants trying to balance the thing out the impossibly small and awkward in-between-front-door-and-front-gate area and rode to SOMA for a DIY beauty day with my ride-or-die homegirl Elyse (I’ve been going through some love-life stuff lately, and what better to boost your mood than dramatic changes to your physical appearance, eh? Seriously, tell me because I’m open to it).
In my constant struggle to find a flattering no-maintenance haircut that complements my “disheveled-chic” aesthetic, whilst giving shape to hair thicker than you can believe, I decided to let her try her untrained-but-capable hands at chopping off my hair. And if that wasn’t enough, I also procured one of those at-home L’oreal ombre kits from the local drugstore and a bottle of Cooks to tie it all together.
I used to be weirdly attached to my hair, living in fear of a bad haircut, putting off getting trims, making due with a shapeless torrent of long straight hair that rarely does me any favors. But hair grows, and mine grows quickly. I’d rather always be in between bad haircuts because at least that aesthetic is dynamic; having stagnant puff-hair for years would be a sad alternative. I am also toying with the idea of some vivid color (blue has been my favorite color since I knew what blue was) but with hair as dark as mine that could go tragically awry, and there’s not much worse than dead, fried, piss-yellow/green suburb-punk hair on a 28 year-old soon-to-be kindergarten teacher. So I wait, letting that idea simmer til the next time I’m feeling overly emotional and sassy.
Elyse and I have been friends for 20 years now (jesus) and she is known in our circle for her insane attention to detail. This combined perfectly with my new “I couldn’t give two shits” attitude to equal a convincingly decent haircut with some quality ombre accents that make me feel like a slightly new woman. I generally look good with shorter hair, and get bored with my mug so often that any change tickles me pink for a few weeks. And man, this bleach stuff was ridiculously easy to use, just squeeze bleach onto a brush applicator and go nuts. I mean hell, we had both drank a bottle of champagne each and hadn’t managed to eff it up. Idiot-proof.
And of course as a form of payment and to round out the beauty day I in turn slathered Elyse’s head with henna (the color is called “caca”, how deliciously tongue-in-cheek, those crafty hippies!). Henna is apprently a good way to give one’s hair a non-permanent, non-damaging boost of color, and Elyse is obstinately dedicated to that sort of organic/paraben-free/gluten-free/vegan/paleo/raw/no fun (joking) lifestyle.
Since she started off brunette with ombre, the result was a fiery red at the ends, and a dark black/burgundy at the top. I don’t yet have an “after” photo of her because she left that stuff on for hours and some of us have work in the morning. But it looks good!