Beauty

The right shade of pink

atomiclola 0 Comments March 19, 2017

Just over a year ago, I made a daring decision to change my hair to a fabulously unnatural shade of red. I went to one of those chain store hair places, told the girl my ideas and then let her do pretty much whatever she wanted. She convinced me that I’d look better with a shadow root than an ombre and I’m all, “Cool, whatever.”
She was so right.
Having bright, fun hair made me feel like I had a bright, fun personality again. I needed the refresh more than I realized. Problem is, as the color fades, it’s so easy for me to settle back into feeling humdrum and not itch to do anything about it. The truth is, I spend more time and money to get my dog groomed than I spend on my own hair. You could say this about me with any beauty routine, really. I am terrible at maintaining my eyebrows. My nail polish is always chipping. I only put makeup on about once a week and sometimes make my eyeliner go till the next day. I wash my face in the shower or before I put on new makeup. Hardly ever before bed. I’m a total beauty loser and I really don’t care. I do like clothes. And scarves, purses, shoes, etc. There is probably some psychology behind all that and I’m not sure I’m ready to know what it means.

Anyhow, after my fabulous red, I wanted to try pink. It’s my favorite color, after all. The color girl talked me into a ruby red, from the roots this time. She kept mentioning Jessica Rabbit. Why not pink? Was she scared? The girl had green and blue hair, like a mermaid tail. I thought I was in good hands. So I let her go ahead with the “ruby red.” Now maybe I see colors differently than the rest of the world, but the whole thing did not go as I imagined. It came out this really great fuchsia color that garnered tons of compliments. I would have been all about it because it was the perfect pink color that I wanted, but something was really wrong with it. The color at my roots was very pretty but it went from that bright fuchsia to a muddy red at the ends because she put the color on over what she had done the month before. She called it a melt. I pointed out the hot roots and she looked at me like she didn’t know what I was talking about. She’s got a great poker face.

OK, no big deal. I’m sure that’s a thing. I’m not a colorist and I can go
with the flow. We’ve all had hair color mishaps and I’m more than OK with waiting until the next appointment to try to correct it. Plus each trip to the salon was costing me 3-4 hours away from the family. When you only have a couple of hours each night and the weekends with your husband and kids, those hours are precious. So I let it go a few more weeks or months than I meant to. No big deal. I’m not hitting up any fashion parades or whatever so who cares what my hair looks like. This is me, feeding that lazy dog again.

So, last summer I was determined to hit the salon and come out with the right shade of pink with a shadow root. I chose a more high-end salon and I called ahead of time to make sure the colorists were willing to do the vibrant colors. The receptionist assured me they use Pravana hair color and that the colorist she scheduled me with loves to do fun hair colors. I went in with a picture that I found on Pinterest because this time I wanted to make sure we were on the same page:

I love everything about the picture above. Magenta and wild orchid. Yes, these were the colors I was looking for. I loved the darker roots, the length of her hair and everything. But when the blow dryer turned off the stylist turned my chair around, it was time for my poker face. The girl made my hair red. Sigh. I am really not sure what is so hard about pink hair. If you know, please explain it to me. I know these colors fade fast and I also know it’s difficult to get red out. But bleach! So much bleach.

No way is this pink:

One more try.

Before leaving my last appointment I booked another one for six weeks later. A couple of weeks before my appointment came up I got a call from the salon that that colorist had left and they rescheduled me with a different colorist. Fine, no problem, she made my hair red anyway. When I walked in to see the new colorist, I showed her the same picture that I had shown the girl the last time. She explained that the picture probably had a filter on it, so she wouldn’t be able to get my hair that exact shade but she could get close.
She did. It was close.
But I guess I feel like it could always be pinker. It looked pink-ish in the sun but whenever I was inside, people always called it red. Now mind you, these girls are bleaching the hair before they paint the color on, so it’s not like they’re putting it on over old color and I don’t get too many tries to get this right before my hair starts breaking off, you know? I made another appointment when I left so I knew I would be returning to the same colorist and she was going to try to get me to that perfect shade of pink.

It takes a certain amount of building up the guts to go and do this. Every time. I have to be prepared for the event that I exit the salon looking like a clown. Change can be shocking, especially if it’s not what you were hoping for. I knew I was on the right track so it made the next trip out even more exciting. I had a good feeling about it. Back to the salon I go. And it’s closed. What? The whole place is closed. A sign in the window says, “Thanks for your patronage, we’ve closed.” No call, no email. Just closed. Bye, Felicia.