In my opinion, if you have a fixation, sooner or later, you have to get that idea out of your head!I was 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 with some homemade attempts and uncertain results, back in June I decided to ask a professional and put my hair literally in his hands!
The result? The rise and fall of a brilliant idea.
The initial project was to dye my hair blue and I had resisted the advice of A. 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, due to the previous bleaching step, so the combination and transition between my mediterranean dark brown and electric blue was intriguing me.
Once arrived to the hairdresser salon, I spent fifteen minutes explaining what I exactly wanted and how was the procedure, given that the term “dip dye” isn’t understood by the indigenous population.
They exclaimed: "You want the shatush, then!".
"Yes, but colourful and exactly I wanted to...", I replied while showing a blue-haired Lauren Conrad picture.
There were clear signs indicating me it wasn’t going to be a nice experience, but I’ve unabated continued in my pursuit, even though, according to the specialists 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 them while I had shaggy hair all wrapped in aluminum sheets in front of my face.
This first torture was preceded by the choice of my future colour: the hairdresser shown me the possible options that best fitted my hair: crazy fuchsia or eggplant (aubergine), those were, stop.
I’ve chosen the second...
Done (maybe) with the bleach, he finally started the next step, the dye: with my neck and head inclined 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 an looked at the roof for 30 minutes or more, but my neck known it well and the two following days filled up with severe neckpain have been enough!
I have fuzzy memories, I just remember the styling time. Knowing that styling curly hair isn’t his best thing (perhaps his team likes afro/70’s 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 apply a great product for frizzy hair.
A phenomenal hair product that leaves hair smooth, soft and silky for a whole week!
Strangely, this year he has “adopted” a new hair care line, including some sort of liquid crystals, a natural-based product enriched with hemp extract.
It seemed a miracle with a light fragrance for instant softness and shine.
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 ville.What’s that? That's all?! Is this the end of the story? No, of course.
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 realized what was going on, there was no sign on my pillow, absolutely nothing. The next morning I discovered the transformation, everything was gone.
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 spend less and less in any other cities or by having fun with 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!)