‘Hair is everything!’
PC sat in front of me in 6th grade in 1993. She had three older sisters and it showed. She would wear fancy neon Mistral backpacks, light blue Ralph Lauren shirts on top of white tank tops, and her sister’s old Levi’s. I remember looking at the red flag on the back pocket of her jeans in awe.
Back home, I’d look at myself in the mirror, and the brown corduroy trousers I loved, suddenly seemed horrifying, much as if I was covering my legs with a pair of potato sacks.
PC did not only have the best clothes. She was also a good 50 cm taller than me and had flawless skin. Most importantly, she wore her very straight and glossy hair in a high ponytail, as one did at the time, and occasionally, over her shoulders - not a single hair out of place. (For the record, PC was a rather nice girl!).
My hair was not glossy, nor straight. My hair was a big flop of dehydrated mess that never sat quite right. I tried combing it, tightening it, and clipping it. It never did what I asked it to do. I was permanently teased about it by every single member of my family and my classmates.
Being decidedly working class in a very snotty nun school in a small-but-posh town is no joke. I mean it. It can do wonders to your self-esteem! It destroys it wonderfully. Mine never quite recovered.
Time passed, though, and it made things a bit easier to bear. I discovered Morrissey, Virginia Woolf, and the thriving indie music scene of the early aughts and began to find my place in the world. Confidence grew.
As the years went by, I began to understand my body and dress for it. Then, I went a step further and began to understand I did not have to dress for my body but my liking. It is a process, but one I’m enjoying thoroughly.
Knitting has helped a lot in this. I’m sure it’s helped you, too!). It’s been liberating, fun, hilarious and the best confidence-booster ever. I have managed to feel happier and prettier every day. Slowly but steady, it’s all gotten better.
Well. Not all of it. Most of it.
It’s been all good except for a tiny remnant of the past: my hair.
I have been the sort of woman who despite being talkative, social, and a reasonably successful professional, always-always-always feels inappropriately ‘done’. A woman whose hair would spike under stress-sweating circumstances (of which I count many), leaving her totally insecure about her looks when she felt she needed to look her best. A woman who understands the iconic ‘Hair is everything’ quote from Fleabag down to the bone.
I’ve carried my straightener to all the music festivals, tours, and knitting events I attended. I’ve paid for expensive keratine treatments, tried all of the hip-and-new salon straightening treatments known to humankind, and spent way too much money on products that never seemed to work.
Please, note the use of the present perfect.
This has been me.
More specifically, me until 2 months ago.
Change
Let me tell you how it all began to change. But please, be aware though, that this is all a process and I’m still navigating this new me.
Here’s the tipping point.
The revelation came while staying in a rural hostel in the middle of the Somiedo Natural Park in a remote area of Asturias. I woke up feeling refreshed. I had a lovely breakfast with my knitter friends and proceed to get ready for the day. Everyone was ready to begin a short walk across the countryside but I was not. I had to run upstairs: I needed to ‘fix’ my hair! As I was straightening my fragile hair in our shared bathroom, I realized something was not quite alright. I thought of all the beautiful and confident women waiting for me downstairs. I looked at my beloved GHD and the tiny drops of sweat in my forefront. I looked at myself in the mirror and I realized that I did not look that good. Moreover, I was utterly ridiculous. The whole thing was ridiculous. I said to myself that the time had come. Enough was enough.
I returned to Barcelona on Monday, got a hairdresser’s appointment on Wednesday, and asked them to cut my hair so it would look good when curled.
And that was it.
My hair curls naturally, very little product is necessary. Right now, it’s coping with Barcelona’s famously humid weather perfectly well. My hair is, for once, making my life infinitely easier.
Many women will tell you a similar story about their hair- it is no joke. I thought I’d share mine here, in case you feel moved to share your hair story with me. I understand the many cultural, national, and identity implications this topic has for many people. I would love to hear what you have to say about this.
