Lisa’s Lament – La Mauvaise Coiffure

It is no secret that I yearn for liberty and am counting the downs until I am back in London, but nothing brought home this yearning more than when I looked in the mirror yesterday and… wait for it… saw the result of 15 minutes in a hairdresser’s chair the day before. My locks have been massacred. My hair is not so much layered as resembling, say, a mountain top after an avalanche, chunks of debris everywhere.

I miss my Sue-Hair. Sue is the Best Hairdresser in the Universe. No, I do not say this lightly. I always leave Biba’s Hair and Beauty Salon on Marchmont Street, WC1 with fabulous hair. Twenty minutes in the hairdresser chair with Sue wielding the tools of her trade results in luscious, perfectly coiffed locks. I provide illustrations to prove that I am not having one of my Lisa Liberal Moments of Gross Exaggeration.

Having a Good Hair Day dining in Paris with Jenny-Anne

Having a Good Hair Day spending money in Melbourne with Jenny-Anne

I have found good hairdressers in Perth before. My honorary sis was styling my hair last year earning her the title of the Second Best Hairdresser in the Universe, but now she is teaching the trade rather than plying it. So I began searching for the Third Best Hairdresser in the Universe, or at least, a hairdresser who would not massacre my hair, leaving me with a case of Bad Hair Day Until the Next Coiff. Sadly, the  five-month run with my current hairdresser has come to an end.

Okay, it may seem a little perplexing to those of you who have seen me lately that someone who is exhibiting all the signs of not giving a stuff about her physical and personal appearance is lamenting the fact that her hair is looking quite awful. Yes, I have been comfort eating my way out of a reasonably respectable size 16 and have been leaving the shaving of the legs until the hairs are long enough to braid. Yes, I have purchased face paint with the intention of using it, only to conclude that I just cannot be bothered wasting time that is better spent in bed than trying to turn mutton into lamb. However, this does not mean that I am content with having awful hair! I like to let my hair blow free, but one cannot do that when her coiff looks like she’s been attacked by a bunch of ill-intentioned smirking drunks armed with scissors! We girls do not call Bad Hair Days “Bad Hair Days” just because our hair is not looking its luscious best, but because a Bad Hair Day filters throughout your entire psyche and makes every part of you feel absolutely awful. If we don’t feel like we could just walk onto the set of a shampoo advertisement and start swishing our lovely hair around our whole day is marred and nothing short of quaffing an entire magnum of pink champagne is going to restore the bubble of our personality.

Well, I am off to dig out my Kate Ceberano baseball cap and my Bates Gatsby to cover my Bad Hair, and then to Liquorland for some pink champagne so I can attempt to drink myself from this…

into a state of being in which I believe I am looking more like…


4 thoughts on “Lisa’s Lament – La Mauvaise Coiffure

  1. Barbara Harder says:

    I must try Biba’s – it’s only seconds from where I work! Thanks for the tip darling! X


  2. Mia says:

    oh u poor thing! will have to accessorize with funky hats and scarfs! xx


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