For many women, very short hair looks sexy, gamine, French. On me, not so much. However, a million years ago, in the wake of a nasty breakup, I stood before the mirror in the bathroom of my Fourteenth street apartment in D.C. and, holding a hank of my then nearly waist-length mane dramatically aloft, I took a giant old scissors and hacked it off, tears streaming down my twenty-something-year-old face. I was convinced, the unfortunate result of reading too many post-feminist essays while drinking too much Maker’s Mark , that the annihilation of my long, wild, dyed-black hair would lead to a triumphant New Me, a Me who didn’t care that short hair made her resemble Mr. Peanut, a Me who would dress like a dude and force Society (whoever that was, I am still uncertain-did I mention I’d been drinking?)- to appreciate my talents and wit and I was never going to date again, anyway, so there!
Approximately twenty minutes later, I stood staring down at the sink and floor in sheer horror at what I had done. I regretted it even more the next morning, when I awoke and realized that my hair was gone, and immediately made a call to my stylist, hoping that somehow she could install a button in my lower back, like the one on my childhood Barbie, that regrew her long, luxurious locks when I snipped them off. Needless to say, this was not an option, and so she fixed my hair into a cute, boyish cut. Everyone claimed it looked chic, sexy, gamine, French. I hated it.
Many, many false starts and several years of torturous in-between stages later, I had my long hair back again, and vowed to never, ever do anything like that again. With the exception of a few inches here and there, and a few instances when I just let it go way too far and start looking hippieish, I’ve kept my hair at mid-back ever since. I just feel like me with long hair. I won’t give it up anytime soon.
The thing is, my hair is finer than it used to be, partly because I no longer abuse it with bleaching and multiple color changes and partly because as one (gulp)ages, one’s locks naturally tend to become less abundant. But it doesn’t have to look that way, thanks to my latest discovery: Bumble and Bumble, always pioneers of some of the coolest and most effective styling products around, has created a dream come true in a tiny bottle: The always fashion-forward company’s Thickening Serum is nothing short of magical. It comes in a teensy bottle, and you pump a few dime-sized drops of the surprisingly watery liquid into your palms, just as you would a facial serum (I adore serums for the skin; we shall discuss this in an upcoming post) and starting with the scalp, sort of just run it through dry hair before going to bed. For extra-fine hair, add a bit more and pay extra attention to the ends; I press it between my palms to make sure it really penetrates. Lo and behold, it just sinks right in and feels like nothing is there. Genius.
The following morning, you wake up to noticeably thicker-feeling and-looking strands, sexy and messy and not one bit sticky or crispy ( I despise sticky and crispy). Then, you just go about your styling ritual as usual; after shampooing the thickened fullness remains and other styling products work better, and if you don’t wash it, it still looks and feels perfectly suited to a sexy messy up-do, and flatirons or brushes glide right through. It’s pretty much the best thing that’s happened to fine-haired folks since the blow dryer. I immediately ordered three more.
Bumble and Bumble Thickening Serum, along with a vast array of B&B hair cleansers, conditioners and styling accoutrements for all hair types and textures, can be found in Baltimore at NV Salon Collective or online at Bumble&Bumble.com.