Strike two for Selena, the hair stylist. Having nodded sagely throughout my monologue re: what I want and do not want happening up top, she proceeded to leave a huge blob of pokey grays on my crown. Even though I emphasized this would be a problem area, but that others had found it was possible to tame (read: colour) those suckers.
Onward, then. I’ve been trying to watch for people with good hair, then ask where they get it done. But few non-student types have what I would call good hair, and I think it’s unprofessional to canvass students for these kinds of ideas. Bah!
And finally: what do with the February blahs? Throughout January, I used colourful outfits to lure myself out of bed most mornings. This month, I’m leaning toward the black. Today’s ensemble is no exception: black cashmere 3/4-sleeve sweater. Cropped gray dress pants. Black knee-high almond-toe leather boots. Brightened only by a sparkly turquoise and black brooch and some artful hair-braiding ending in a side-ponytail.
I had set out the fitted puff-sleeved red cotton/silk t-neck, to we worn with a fitted leather vest, black flat-front wool pants, and some rocker-chick jewellery. But somehow, it required too much energy to even think about that ensemble at 6:30am.
Why is colour – the thing that boosts a complexion like mine, especially in winter when I’m pale, pale, pale – so exhausting? Why does black seem such a refuge in the wee hours of February?