The style over here calls for thin, stick-straight hair punctuated by an asymmetrical bang, often with the underside of the hair dyed significantly darker than the top. It's not the best look if you ask me, but it seems to be the only one that a Scottish hairdresser can pull off judging by the fact that I walk out with it every time; even when I ask for, I don't know, a simple trim. This is the best representation I could find:
What this photo is missing is the mullet-inspired longer pieces that stick to the neck, but the front part is right on. What I don't understand is that none of the hairdressers themselves have the style; in fact, they all have pretty fabulous hair. Which leads me to my next point: are they turning against us? Wait, here's a better shot:
Now just imagine the top part dyed platinum blonde and you're there.
Anyways, this has been a long set-up for the latest ridiculous thing to happen to me: I inadvertently GOT MY HAIR DYED LIKE A SKUNK. I went out of my way to find a hair dresser from New Zealand; it was the same woman, in fact, who had successfully chopped Jamie's hair off a few months ago. I took a train to Fife on my day off, brought pictures to guide her, and was vigilant throughout the process, but I still left the shop feeling like a whole mess of eurotrash had been dumped all over forehead. I would post pictures but it is just too depressing. Ok, fine, but just one. This is the face I make when I cannot imagine what could have posessed you to dye my hair with two such contrasting shades:
She literally begged to cut my hair, but I learned my lesson last year in Amsterdam in what I like to call "The Bad Bang Incident of 2007" and resisted. As I type this, corrective chemicals are hard at work on the chocolate layer, hopefully lightening it to a more palatable shade of dark blonde. As much fun as it is to walk around looking like a reject from Rock of Love, I think I'll pass.
