Not from Essex

Somewhere I had read about us all moving towards a look that was preliminarily reserved for the porn industry. Fake boobs, fake nails, fake tan – even hair extensions and b(l)each blond hair had initially only been associated with the world of Dirk Diggler.

Since The Only Way is Essex at the latest, we should have all understood that the modern interpretation of glamour has nothing to do with the swinging 20s, tassled cocktail dresses and long, black, satin gloves. The new glamour goes fake, and maybe it is my turn to swap blond for blonder. Or rather: bland for blond.

The lovely Mattias in an attempt to save me

Despite the cold weather, I have been overcome by a sudden and surprising lust for life. A desire to wear heels and dresses, to go out and to get rid of everything mumsy and mousy. So after the recent trip to Selfridges, I looked at my sad looking head on top of my happy looking clothes and decided it was time for a change.

Looking pretty stupid

Of course, Big M was rolling his eyes when I told him about my plan to go brighter. After all, I had complained incessantly about my hair being too blond and chopped it all off in a drastic stroke about three years ago. Funnily, I had felt too old to go that blond.

Ready to rock. Or so.

The lovely Mattias can be found at Fresh Lifestyle Salon & Spa.