Dye, My Darling

This week, whilst reading about Courtney Love’s new fashion line, I discovered  rainbow-haired lady Chloe Norgaard. The Norwegian model has attracted attention for her crazy-coloured hair. Her hair looks incredibly good given the amount of bleach it must have seen and I love her grungey 90s style and smile. It’s not a look everyone could pull off, but she does it very well and it makes me feel rather envious.

At the age of 20 I decided I was bored of my hair, which I’d never really dyed, and decided I’d like to go blonde. I bought some bleach, hoping for a white-blonde Gwen Stefani-style look. Bleaching your own hair isn’t something I’d really recommend, especially if your hair is quite dark and you have little experience of hair-dressing. What I ended up with was a strange colour-gradient that ranged from white through canary-yellow to orange. The only person who thought it looked good was my colour-blind flatmate (and that wasn’t particularly comforting).

So it looked awful. As a bit of a rescue mission I bought a pack and red dye and coloured it over. My hair was the colour of pillarboxes and double-decker buses and I felt something like a superhero. It was fantastic.

It came with a lot of up-keep. I dyed my hands red. I dyed bits of my forehead red. My bathroom looked like a death-scene from an amateur slasher-flick. All my towels, pillowcases and shirt collars got a red tint to them. It faded almost immediately  and from using different dyes I ended up with a strange tequila-sunrise effect with orangey-red and pinky-red patches. I switched to an amazing Special Effects dye called ‘Infra-Red’ that claimed to give my hair a UV glow, and I re-did it about every 5 weeks. I couldn’t wear red. Or pink. Or green, or a lot of things, I was continually clashing.

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