Since I was old enough to backcomb, I have always been one for trying out new hair styles. Siousixie Soux punk inspired finger in the socket do’s, Bananrama crimping, 50s rockabilly quiffs, pixie crops, blunt bobs, idiot boy king fringes and Heidi style plaits, I’ve had them all and worn them with pride.
Like my clothes I don’t follow rules with my hair and am not afraid of something new – in fact I positively embrace more extreme styles and my younger self was always frustrated that I was unable to dye my bright red hair ridiculous colours.
I have however never had either very long hair, or what I call the layered rock chick look. Anthea Turner/Jo Wood, as I have a fear of the layered, blonde streaked glamour mum look so loved by the wealthy women of West London.
Long hair has always been something of an enigma for me, as I can never bear the growing out phase and always cave in and resort to an actual style before it grows quite long enough. But for the last year I have been seriously ‘growing my hair’ in an attempt to be the kind of women who effortlessly flicks her long glossy locks casually around, while wearing a Breton top, chic wide leg chinos, loafers and a Grace Kelly type cardi. Except I am not that woman, I am a fashion butterfly who changes her look every day, I hate blow drying and tie my hair back 95% of the time, with the other 5% involving attempts at complicated twisty/braided type up dos which only really look good on a 22 year old.
Perhaps thats why most middle-aged women tend to find a hairstyle and stick to it – they are grown up enough to know they will never be the woman in the Pantene advert and that chic and easy to care for, is preferable to high maintenance and wannabe fashionable.
Sadly I am not that mature and will continue to grow my hair into a witchy cross between Stevie Nicks and My Little Pony – until I cave in and cut it into a sensible bob.