The perm years

When people told me this place was humid, they weren't joking. Outside, the humidity gets up to 90%, which is sort of like being in a Turkish bath. So you can just imagine what this does to a girl's hair. Now, I have wavy hair at the best of times, but in other, dryer, cities, I could just blowdry it in the morning and then it would remain obediently straight for the rest of the day, or until I washed it again. Ha! Fat chance my hair is ever ever going to behave again - what a disaster!

My dear friend HHi in New York warned me before I came, and advised that I should get the brazilian hair straightening treatment done in order to artificially pin my hair down. She did this before she went to Columbia for a conference and her hair looked like something from a shampoo ad. Needless to say, I didn't listen to her. I pride myself in being a low maintenance, low frills kind of person, and stay clear of most beauty treatments unless they're absolutely necessary and I think that my chances of integrating into everyday society will be dampened by not doing them. But she was right. Dead right.

The first day I went out, I just dried my hair as per usual (not much brushing, not much attention paid etc) and went to meet a friend at a swanky roofbar on top of the IFC called Red. I was quite enjoying myself, and working my way through my second glass of wine, and feeling quite 'en vogue', when the waitress came by and innocently said "Oh, you look just like Mariah Carey." The horror! That was it. Because I knew at that moment, that she wasn't referring to the 'new fashionista, big boobs, small waist' Mariah Carey. I knew that she was referring to the perm years. So, I went home a little dejected and pulled out my dusty hair straightener, stuck on a double adapter (it's from the US) and now use it not once, but twice a day! Twice!

My new best friend

Not only do I spend about twelve times as long to get ready in the morning/evening. I have also turned into one of those girls who is endlessly preening herself and checking herself in lift mirrors to see if she looks presentable. I never thought the day would come where it would be me standing in front of the bathroom mirror of a nightclub tirelessly touching myself up and looking at myself from various angles - battling the frizz. I must say, I'm not enjoying this. Maybe a wig is in order...

These girls at Roxy might be on to something