Embracing the ‘Frizzy’ Hair - A Vintage Retrospective
As someone who has grown up with her disabilities, I’ve always been aware of those mildly inconvient parts of myself that make it difficult to do some of the things people find less time consuming or difficult.
Although it might seem silly, my morning routine is almost always a labour of love - The styling and upkeep always evade me, despite my efforts to always ‘run a rake’ through throughout the day.
Because, despite my efforts, that vital part of individual elegance is sometimes nay impossible and can be slightly furstrating: When it’s a hot day - sweaty and fraying. Disheartening with my mild anemia where it tangles and knots painfully; and discrediting when I glance at myself in a mirror, or am trying to take a photo or do a vlog. So, I end up with half baked results, long frizzy hair that still looks unkempt despite all earlier attempts as though I had been dragged through a hedge.
Salons whilst lovely are rather expensive, which makes it a difficult thing to justify, especially when my hair decides inexplicity to return to its default ‘mess’ after a few hours rather than the days I’d hoped for. And due to my disabilities it can be easier said than done to ‘touch up’ the look to maintain it as well as I’d like.
Another factor that weighs in here is in the reminders I find in my immediate past. One of my family traditions was getting some professional photos done, both at a photography studio and the yearly school ‘Christmas’ photo to see how we were growing up - both as a group and the dreaded individual shot.
For these my mother always worked hard to braid my hair, styling it into pigtails, plaits and ponytails when I was younger.
But, although she tried and continues many times to teach me, I’ve struggled to replicate the effect myself. Something that would no doubt come in use when trying to replicate vintage inspired hairstyles.
Many of these involve more acrobatics and witchcraft than my poor hands can muster. The problem with dyspraxia - at least for me - is a tricky balancing act of hand-eye-coordination, fine motor skills and balance. On some days it can be a mild inconvience; but on my lowest days, when my anxiety creeps, I feel stupid, or as helpful as a newborn baby (though with less drool).
There had also been a phase in secondary school where I had, had my hair cut into a much shorter almost bob like shape, in a bid to keep my hair ready for school’s more pratical activities such as PE, Science, Textiles, Woodwork, Metalwork and Cooking.
But despite the trend to have hair shorter now, I personally hated the style (although I liked it on others). It just didn’t feel like me and I felt like a boy.
Thus, my current hair style to me is perhaps my personal rebellion: long and shoulder length (if not longer at present due to lockdown).
And you know what, that’s still ok. As I’ve grown up, there has been a wealth of information and inspiration for me in which to delve into. Discovering beautiful ladies of yesteryear such as Ione Bright or Jeanne Crain and Veronica Lake, all who embraced their frizz, long and natural waves, instead of hiding it away in shame, against a backdrop of pinned up, bobs and short, tightly formed ringlets and curls.
Yes, it might take me a little longer every morning to get ready; and there are bound to be a few bad hair days along the way - everyone gets them.
But there is no fixed rule on how to style my hair.
Everyone should be unique; and with just another brush, shampoo and the odd hair mask can be equally beautiful (plus thanks to Pinterest and Youtube, there are also plenty of tutorials for my slightly more adventurous days) - whatever trends, fashion and dyspraxia throw at me!
