In my opinion, if you have a fixation, sooner or later, you have to get that idea out of your head! I’ve been obsessed with a particular hair colouring style and I had chased the idea for a long time, for years now!
The blog is my witness: I love the dip dye a lot, it has been love at first sight, and I’ve discovered with my surprise that, apparently, here in Italy it’s called with the generic term of shatush!
Rather than experimenting at home with uncertain results, back in June I decided to ask a professional and put my hair literally in his pro hands! The result? The rise and fall of a brilliant idea, my dip-dye.
The initial project was to dye my hair blue and I had resisted A.’s advice suggesting me a nice fuchsia, as it’s a colour I find adorable and that really suits me. The dip-dye has the advantage of creating a pleasing gradient effect thanks to a previous bleaching session. The combination and transition between my Mediterranean dark brown and electric blue were intriguing me.
Once arrived at the hairdresser salon, I spent 15 minutes explaining what I was exactly lookig for and how was the procedure, given that the indigenous population doesn’t understand the term ‘dip-dye’.
They exclaimed: ‘You want the shatush, then!‘.
‘Yes, but I want it colourful and exactly I wanted to…’, I replied while showing a blue-haired Lauren Conrad picture.
There were clear signs foreseeing it wasn’t going to be a great experience, but I was stubborn in my pursuit, even though according to the specialist team, blue wouldn’t have been very visible on my dark hair at the end of treatment. The appointed day, I rushed to get on time: I had little time and I had to go back to work. Overtaken by older people, I waited and waited.
Bleaching came after shampooing, the haircut and quick blow drying, but even the hairdresser had no idea of the time needed to bleach my hair and he did his best. I picked up all of his uncertainties in his face, I noticed it while my shaggy hair was all wrapped in tin foil in front of my face.
This first torture was preceded by the choice of my future hair colour: the hairdresser showed me the possible options that best fitted my hair: crazy fuchsia or eggplant (aubergine), those were – that was it. I choose the second…
Done (maybe) with the bleach, he finally started the next step, dyeing my hair: with my neck and head inclined, sinking into the sink, I’ve spent an incalculable amount of time in that absurd position.
Even in this situation, my hairdresser had no idea of the time required for the hair dye to penetrate into my hair and do its duty. I probably stayed there and looked at the roof for 30 minutes or more, but my neck knew it well and the two following days filled up with severe neck pain have been enough!
I have fuzzy memories of that time, I just remember the styling time. Knowing that styling curly hair isn’t his best thing (perhaps his team likes afro/’70s style), I asked them to straighten my hair and, at least, curl my tips with a curling iron for a softer look. Obviously, they lost the curling iron somewhere or they haven’t even cared about my wishes…
The final touch! I know this hairdresser well and I knew at the end of each session he always uses to applying a great product for frizzy hair. A phenomenal hair product leaving my hair miracolously smooth, soft and silky for a whole week!
Strangely, this year he has ‘adopted’ a new haircare line, including some sort of liquid crystals, a natural-based treatment enriched with hemp extract. It seemed a miracle with a light fragrance for instant softness and shine. I wanted to buy it, I gave up because of its price and I did the right thing: my hair became frizzy in a snap.
Nevertheless, I was proud of the great step forward because I had the exact haircut I wanted, an eccentric yet acceptable hair colour, that is something one can’t see every day in my little forgotten town. What’s that? That’s all?! Is this the end of the story? No, of course. (I wished so!)
After a couple of days, I’ve noticed something really strange, never seen before. That beautiful, vibrant and multi-faceted shade of violet was fading away, day after day, relentlessly.
I’ve resisted for ten days without shampooing, then I succumbed. But, in the frenzy of the working week, I’ve forgotten to buy a new shampoo for my new needs. What was left from my original colour vanished among scented bubbles. It was night and I haven’t realised what was going on, there was no sign on my pillow, absolutely nothing. The next morning I discovered the transformation, everything was gone and forever.
Was it just a dream? Well, a dream with an overall cost of €60!
Yes, because if you live in a tiny place, things are economically and proportionally bigger. I could have spent less and less in any other city or with a fun DIY.
An epic journey: from brilliant Pixie-hair to foxy wild locks.
This is what happened, now I’m reddish and I like it a lot. (I’ve also learn from it!)
Valentina Chirico aka Valens
