And the first sightings of premature mid-life crisis have happened. I have finally succumbed to hair highlights after resisting them my whole life. This is what happens when you spend a summer with your mother in the fashionable parts of london.
My older one tells me my hair is awfully boring because I am one of the few women my age she knows who refuses to touch colour to her hair. My mother who was perfectly satisfied with my natural hair colour until now, comes to London and joins my daughter in a tirade against my virgin (to colour treatment)hair.
All this is, of course, is not something one needs to blog about but what needs to be put in ink is the fact that my mother got inspired after looking at a picture of Kate Moss and decided it was time her daughter did something to her hair. Because the only thing that is keeping me from looking like Kate Moss is my hair colour.
Mother walked me to a picture of Kate Moss at the Superdrug store and suggested with a straight face that I should get highlights like her. Armudpusttadgumph!
But mom that is Kate Moss. Look at her skin and hair colour.
So what? What’s good for Kate Moss is good for you.
Okay then. I am on my way to embracing my inner Kate Moss at a chic salon where I am sitting with my heart in my mouth and waiting for balayage (that’s what it is called these days) results to show. Highlights are passé’ it seems and in London everybody is doing Ombre’/Balayage.
I would not usually yield to someone urging me to colour my hair if I was still in my twenties. But at this juncture in my life, there is little that you can change, yes? I mean you can’t change your house or your city or your job (especially if you are jobless like me) or your
husband family or even your name. So then the only thing left to change is your hair really.
And so it is, that I find myself sitting in a salon chair, sipping my coffee and counting minutes till I see Kate Moss in the mirror.
I have spent the better part of last night googling ideal hair colour highlights for Asian skin and I am only getting images of Lucy Liu and Kim Kardashian. Yes there is no escaping Kim K on Google regardless of what words you key in in the search engine. Try writing ‘typewriters’ or even ‘toilet cleaners’ and I am certain it will throw up at least a picture or two of Kim Kardashin.
The spouse has taken the girls to Peppa Pig world and the mother is shopping at Oxford Street I believe, leaving me to my fate.
My brief to Nicole, who is doing my hair as I type this, is to be conservative and do anything that will keep me from looking like an Arab (**)
She gets me. Her colleagues find my racist comment funny.
But I would rather be politically incorrect than look like an Arabian chick with kohl rimmed eyes and red/bleached tones on my head.
The truth is that it is unlikely that I can be mistaken for an Arab in London, irrespective of hair colour, because I have not arrived here in a private jet. Nor do I move around in a Bentley or Rolls.
It is only Harrods then, that I will have to stay away from if I come out looking like one of them. That I can manage because I don’t care much for Harrods anyway.
Disclaimer- **I think that Arab women are beautiful but it just isn’t my sensibility. Given my skin tone and hair colour I could easily pass off as one, hence the fear.