Hair. A personal journey.
It took 38 years to find my haircut. Here's how I keep the wheels on it.
My daughter found my leaving card from Glamour magazine the other day. Thanks to the retouching gods for giving me Rosie Huntington-Whiteley’s body for just a little while.
And in this particular instance, I refer you to the goddess Tina Fey who in her book, Bossypants, my personal bible, said: ‘I feel about Photoshop the way some people feel about abortion. It is appalling and a tragic reflection on the moral decay of our society… unless I need it, in which case, everybody be cool.’ Just this once, let me enjoy Rosie’s hotness for one hot second.
One of the biggest cover lines on it, that made my daughter laugh a lot, is: 17 years, 17 identical hairstyles.
What can I say? It’s possibly the only thing I have in common with super editor Anna Wintour: When you find your signature, why change it?
I remember one year for the Glamour Awards, my wonderful hairdresser George Northwood started trying to make my normally poker-straight hair look wavy. I sat there for a while, really unsure, but figuring, ‘It’s George. I really really trust him.’ I never give the guy directions, I just let it happen, he knows what he’s doing. So I just let it happen. But turns out there’s a first time for everything and I just wasn’t feeling it. As my short pieces of hair got crinklier and crimpier and wavier, I found the courage to pipe up: ‘George…. Please don’t hate me for saying this, but-’
‘Oh god, you don’t like it?’
‘Oh god, I don’t know but it’s just that I have to get on stage at this thing that’s already stressing me out and-’
‘Say no more, I totally understand,’ said George, the nicest man in the world. ‘You have to feel like YOU.’
And with that, a quick spritz of water we were back to the poker straight look with a couple of little pixie wisps that keep it just the right side of a little bit fucked up.
I first got this cut, courtesy of George, in 2008. I sat in his chair with my boring chin-length bob and moaned about how much I hated it.
My hair is actually really really wispy and flyaway. Not even a hurricane would have Anna Wintour’s sleek bob daring to step out of line. Me? One sneeze and I’m Boris Johnson. In fact, my entire life, up until meeting George had been one of waging constant war with my hair. It was just about OK when I was younger and it just sat there on my head being boring:
When I hit my teens, my wispy, flimsy hair just wasn’t up to the complicated waves and sweeps of the New Romantic trend. My mother kept making me get it permed.
So spending time forever trying to blow dry it into submission with a haircut that just wasn’t its natural state, had started to grate.
I was at first very tense as George’s hands flew about my head, giving it the full Edward Scissorhands rotary blade actions. But I’ve never looked back.
Having found the cut that works with my hair - that allows my hair to be a little wispy and a bit choppy and messy - changed my confidence overnight. I was 38 when I found the haircut that made me, me. But one thing that will never not suck about my hair? It looks like this every single morning when I wake up:
Every morning Ross says: ‘Whose hair IS that?!’ To be honest I never thought our relationship would survive his first viewing of it. It’s why I have to wash it every day. Maybe I don’t have to wash it everyday but I certainly need to soak it into submission. It’s probably because of the excess washing (twice if I’m doing a Peloton class which is most days) that it feels greasy and disgusting and sits lifeless on my head if I don’t.
I heard a woman at the hairdressers ask for huge volume in her blowdry so it would still look good for a party she was going to two days later. If you can can sleep on your hair, and then wake up and still have it looking like you just stepped out of a salon, then know this: a part of me begrudges you.
So, as my beauty product pieces here seem to go down well, I thought I’d run through what I use on my hair. A not too exhaustive list of the stuff that never lets me down.
John Frieda Violet Crush shampoo and conditioner
I’ve always found John Frieda products to really agree with my hair. No idea if the purple tint is keeping my blonde bits blonde but why not. Love the smell and shine I get from this so it’s doing something right.
I’ve been using this for years and it’s good but I’ve still never forgiven John Frieda for discontinuing my favourite styling spray of all time, Five Minute Manager. I’m warning you JF, if this one disappears, there’ll be scenes.
A recent discovery and a very good one. If I’m honest I’m less secure about the hold it gives me than my John Frieda first love but it’s good enough and I love the extra gloss this seems to deliver.
Hair by Sam McKnight Cool Girl Barely There Texture Hair Mist
The unassailable no1 dry shampoo/hairspray. It gives a satisfying stickiness to your hair that is still malleable so a good spritz with it, get in there and finger style into whatever shape you want and you’re good for hours. Great fragrance too.
Salon-level power blast means I can be done in about five minutes, max.
I use these to kick out my ends a touch. My hair doesn’t feel like mine until I’ve done it. Once a Palace Confidential viewer told me my flicks were annoying so I make sure they’re extra kicky and flicky when I tape that show. (*middle finger emoji*)
George Northwood Undirty shampoo and conditioner
Clean, unfussy with a delicate fragrance. I buy this when I’m feeling posh.
The Queer Eye superstar knows hair and they know what they’re talking about when it comes to product. Hemisqualane is the hero ingredient and I definitely notice a strengthening of my hair, and much more conditioned ends when I’m using this. It delivers on volume too.
Another favourite for styling. I really like this for when I’m presenting on Lorraine because I can spritz, shape and it holds like concrete. But it doesn’t feel like that.
This was interesting to read. I’ve always struggled with my hair, it gets wavier and wavier each year, and nothing can tame it’s volume. Moroccan oil helps a bit - and it smells amazing - but the humidity always wins. I’ve tried chopping my hair very short a couple of times and I always regret it
Jo, I actually ripped out your editor picture from my trusty Glamour in the v early 2000s and had it "on file" as the perfect crop. I have a large-ish nose with a bit of a wonk (which I personally love but) which probably wouldn't suit short hair so I've never had the guts to go for the chop, but you definitely feature in the Iconic Hair halls of my mind.