Dark Roots Are The New Black

My roots are showing.  On purpose.

In the ongoing fiasco that it has been to find someone to do my hair in Auckland, I have finally waved the white flag.

The first attempt was a nightmare and I walked out of the salon looking worse than when I had entered.

The second girl, an American in Auckland and owner of a salon, got closer, but still missed the mark by a HUGE distance, even with explicit written directions.  I saw her five times and when she made the ultimate error (using bleach), I knew that I would never darken the doorstep of her salon, ever, ever again.  I liked her but her results were abysmal.

At the tail end of all of this, I made a trip back to the USA and was able to see the woman who had taken care my hair for the last decade.  She confirmed everything I'd already known to be true.  My colour was a calico patchwork of bad, my hair was a dried out mess and my cut was an overly texturized mop.  I looked like shit.  It took nearly four hours but she was able to fix it to about 60% of what it used to be.  It would require several more visits, which was obviously impossible since I live an ocean away.

So, to console myself, I ate a peanut butter cup and understood that at least I would look somewhat fabulous for three and a half weeks.

(At this point, the male readers might want to check out and go grab a beer because the next bit of blather may cause emasculation.)

Cut to six weeks later, with a swatch of ugly roots and I found myself at the one of the priciest salons in Auckland today.  I had heard really good things about them and in desperation, I made an appointment.  I was convinced that in order to manage, I was going to try a new hair trend called, ombre.

Ombre is the process of a gradual lightening of the hair whereby the darkest part is the top of the head and the lightest bit is the located at the ends.  For me, that meant having a look at and embracing my natural colour for the first time in, oh, nearly twenty years.  I still had perky boobs the last time I had brown hair and my hair isn't a pretty brown laced with sun-kissed highlights.  My brown hair is mousy, dull, fugliness, the stuff of welcome mats and saddle blankets.

These are examples of celebrity ombre.

Camila Alves awesomeness

Jessica Biel being stunning

Obviously, they make ombre look great but so do the stick models who make us voluptuous girls believe that skinny jeans could work for us, which is a bit like stuffing sausage into a casing, but I digress....

Anyhow, I asked my new girl, Vivienne, to make me ombre.  She refused and sensibly counseled  that since I had been blonde since the beginning of time, baby steps were in order.  This visit, she'd add in some darker tones and allow me to adjust to the difference.  She was right, of course, because the first look I got at my new, darker, self, was jarring.  You become relatively accustomed to the person staring back at you in the mirror and when you make a dramatic change, it's scary.

And then, I came home and my kids told me I looked younger.

And then all was right in my world.