Today I went to get my self-proclaimed ‘hair make-over.’ I was a little dubious of the salon I ended up picking, because I had never been there before. I really only chose it because it was cheap. Probably not the best decision to make when it comes to your hair, but hey, I’m a poor college student.
I had this crazy idea in my head to get the whole ‘ombre hair’ trend done to my hair.
I’m a brunette, and I still had some black in my hair from the last time I decided on a hair make-over. I figured if she could lighten the black parts, it would work in my favor and be perfect for summer. The look I was going for was something like this:
But alas, the hair gods deemed me unfit to replicate Jessica Beil’s sunkissed locks, and so bestowed upon me an evil hairdresser. At first, things seemed like they would be great. My stylist seemed modern, although she was older, and when I mentioned the ombre hair and showed her a picture, she seemed to know what I was talking about.
I made it clear that I wanted as much length left on as possible, and wanted the color to look natural. I also wanted side bangs and short layers. I suggested layers from chin to shoulder length, and a trim on the bottom layer of around 2 inches.
What I got was negative 3 inches of hair, choppy layers, and the most unnatural dye job I’ve ever seen. I looked like a gothic teenager that decided to bleach the bottom of her head with peroxide. She chopped off all my hair!
This is the closest picture to what my hair looked like. But not even this good.
My stylist got worse and worse as time went on. She kept saying that we’d go little by little, and then never asked me if what she did was okay. My haircut, while fine (except for the fact that I’m missing some length) is what my hair has always looked like. Boring layers. I wanted a change, and I got just a normal everyday cut.
The color was horrendous, and she kept saying it looked good. I obviously couldn’t really tell what she was doing until it was already done. She seemed to be painting on hair dye in the right way, and I was mostly reading a magazine, oblivious to the havoc being reeked upon my locks. Yes, that was stupid of me, but I tend to want to trust professionals.
About halfway through, my stylist starting getting calls on her cell phone. Um, seriously? You’re at work and you’re taking personal calls? I mean I understand if you don’t have a customer, but hello! I’m right here! She did a terrible job blow-drying my hair, as if she had never done it before, and used a brush that I could buy at Rite Aid. Then she quickly straightened my hair and was done. The color was the worst. I thought I would cry.
And that’s what I did. Once I was in my car, I started to cry because my hair was so ugly. Sigh, the problems of a middle-class white girl. I ran to the nearest drug-store and bought a box of dye to match my own hair color. It’s still a little lighter that my natural hair, but I like it now, sort of.
Moral of the story: I’ll never get my hair dyed professionally again. I wasted so much money on a style I hated. Now I’m just waiting for my hair to grow out again.
Have you ever gotten your hair dyed professionally? Ever had a hair disaster?