More L'Oreal Adventures
Sep. 16th, 2006 06:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jhameiaIt's amazing what a deadline can do to people. It'll make them wake up earlier than they're used to, and get them on the road faster than anything else.
And of course, the idea of something interesting to watch and be a part of means hanging around even though one doesn't have anything to do.
This was our situation when we left at 10.30am to be there by 11am (this is unnaturally bright and early for us), and when we got there, the first three girls who were there by 9am were still being worked on. Donna asked me how I was feeling about getting my hair cut, and we had a little bargain: I wanted curls and hair to cover my nipple. She gave me a long look and said, "okay. Anymore you want?" and I said, "No, that's it."
Sean went first, since his was the easiest to work with (just a plain dye job: lightening his hair even more than it already was, and then putting in a diagonal smokey streak so it could be styled into a faux-hawk on the morrow).
Alicia, apparently, didn't have to be there at all, because hers was virgin hair and they were going to colour it tomorrow with a specific brand to show how well it works. For us and curiousity's sake, though, she stuck around for the entire time we were there.
Elie was next. He had his hair lightened two shades, and platinium streaks, and then his hair, normally thick and curly, was straightened, so that the streaks would come out even more.
So apparently, there was a misunderstanding, and I wasn't going to be a cut model after all, but a collection model. (The cut model is the model who's getting a haircut onstage; the collection model is the one whose hairstyle will be based on the technical manuals that will be distributed at the hair show to local stylists.)
This was after they chopped off half my hair. Donna told me to stand up, and she gathered what she was going to cut, tied it into a braid, and chopped it right off. I felt the strands falling away and falling back into place, a simple, plain straight line the way I've always hated hair to be. It's neat and brings out the shine in hair (you know, Pantene Pro-V hair commercials always have this hairstyle), but it's commonplace and... well, blah. The reactions of others, though, were immediate and positive, because they've seen the before and after.
I felt like an idiot, running my fingers through my hair to comb it the way I normally do only to find a distinct lack of length.
But, Donna said the day before, "Do this, I don't want no fussing, no bullshit, no tears, nothin'."
So I took it like a professional and sucked it up, saying nothing. Maybe a part of me was really distressed. I know it upset me everytime I felt how close the ends were. I know that I can grow it back out, but stilll, it's a shock.
I was one of the last to get her hair dyed. They had to put ephasol (I'm not sure how it's spelled) to remove the remaining dye in my hair from the last time I dyed it - most of it had already been stripped, hence the textured look I had which was a mixed of platinum, dark blonde, brown, red, and orange, but to make sure it was all gone, they had to take it off. I sat there with it for a while, then had it washed off, and had some more chemicals combed into my hair to relax the cuticles, so the dye would apply more evenly. That was washed off too.
Melanie was the hairstylist working on my hair. She works at a salon really close to my place - I've stopped in there before to look at cosmetics. She actually remembered seeing me and my friends before, at least stopping in, and we chatted a little about her work as she washed my hair over and over.
They finished the colouring on my hair, but I couldn't leave until Donna put rollers into my hair, and they're supposed to be there ALL FREAKING NIGHT. This means no sleeping on my back tonight. In fact, I might have to sleep on the couch with my head suspended, or in the papasan chair, somehow to avoid the curlers coming out.
It's gonna be a long, uncomfy night.
And of course, the idea of something interesting to watch and be a part of means hanging around even though one doesn't have anything to do.
This was our situation when we left at 10.30am to be there by 11am (this is unnaturally bright and early for us), and when we got there, the first three girls who were there by 9am were still being worked on. Donna asked me how I was feeling about getting my hair cut, and we had a little bargain: I wanted curls and hair to cover my nipple. She gave me a long look and said, "okay. Anymore you want?" and I said, "No, that's it."
Sean went first, since his was the easiest to work with (just a plain dye job: lightening his hair even more than it already was, and then putting in a diagonal smokey streak so it could be styled into a faux-hawk on the morrow).
Alicia, apparently, didn't have to be there at all, because hers was virgin hair and they were going to colour it tomorrow with a specific brand to show how well it works. For us and curiousity's sake, though, she stuck around for the entire time we were there.
Elie was next. He had his hair lightened two shades, and platinium streaks, and then his hair, normally thick and curly, was straightened, so that the streaks would come out even more.
So apparently, there was a misunderstanding, and I wasn't going to be a cut model after all, but a collection model. (The cut model is the model who's getting a haircut onstage; the collection model is the one whose hairstyle will be based on the technical manuals that will be distributed at the hair show to local stylists.)
This was after they chopped off half my hair. Donna told me to stand up, and she gathered what she was going to cut, tied it into a braid, and chopped it right off. I felt the strands falling away and falling back into place, a simple, plain straight line the way I've always hated hair to be. It's neat and brings out the shine in hair (you know, Pantene Pro-V hair commercials always have this hairstyle), but it's commonplace and... well, blah. The reactions of others, though, were immediate and positive, because they've seen the before and after.
I felt like an idiot, running my fingers through my hair to comb it the way I normally do only to find a distinct lack of length.
But, Donna said the day before, "Do this, I don't want no fussing, no bullshit, no tears, nothin'."
So I took it like a professional and sucked it up, saying nothing. Maybe a part of me was really distressed. I know it upset me everytime I felt how close the ends were. I know that I can grow it back out, but stilll, it's a shock.
I was one of the last to get her hair dyed. They had to put ephasol (I'm not sure how it's spelled) to remove the remaining dye in my hair from the last time I dyed it - most of it had already been stripped, hence the textured look I had which was a mixed of platinum, dark blonde, brown, red, and orange, but to make sure it was all gone, they had to take it off. I sat there with it for a while, then had it washed off, and had some more chemicals combed into my hair to relax the cuticles, so the dye would apply more evenly. That was washed off too.
Melanie was the hairstylist working on my hair. She works at a salon really close to my place - I've stopped in there before to look at cosmetics. She actually remembered seeing me and my friends before, at least stopping in, and we chatted a little about her work as she washed my hair over and over.
They finished the colouring on my hair, but I couldn't leave until Donna put rollers into my hair, and they're supposed to be there ALL FREAKING NIGHT. This means no sleeping on my back tonight. In fact, I might have to sleep on the couch with my head suspended, or in the papasan chair, somehow to avoid the curlers coming out.
It's gonna be a long, uncomfy night.