Us curlyheads have had a love/hate relationship with our hair since we were young. Hear is one womans story of coming out of the curly head closet
"My Curly Hair Love Affair:
One woman's tale of learning to respect her ringlets."
By Jan Sharkansky
From November 1999 Self
To straighten or not to straighten my hair - that has long been the question. But never was the dilemma more pronounced than when I began a career in the image-driven fashion industry. At the company I worked for the message seemed clear: Straight hair was essential to corporate success. It was my responsibility to represent the designer's image. this meant wearing the designer's clothes and, although it was never openly discussed, having straight hair. As one coworker put it, "The clean lines of straight hair synergize perfectly with the modern lines of the collection." Well la-di-da! Who was I to argue with synergy? So I began going to great lengths to keep my curls under control.
My first approach wsa pretty low concept - the goal was simply to contain my locks. I tried slicked-back styles with ultra-stiff gels and the always classic (and occasionally current) French braid. Then, at long last, I had my hair blown out straight for the first time. I remember barely recognizing myself afterward. My hair felt different and so did I.
I immediately had a sense of order, calmness and control. For the first time my hair looked neat. It felt like silk instead of steel wool. This was the finishing touch I'd been searching for. I began booking weekly blow-outs,
supplemented with my own at-home routine.
The flip side of my newfound pride was that I now had something to hide. The fact that I blew dry became like a dirty secret ? and the spin control it took to keep my curls undercover was exhausting. While snowboarding with a new boyfriend (who had no clue about my curls) I had to avoid frizz-inducing activities, such as hot-tub soaking. As much as I loved the ocean, I almost never swam in it. I even kept a log of what condition my hair was in on every date I went on - just so that I could be sure to foloow up on the second one with the same style.
I soon discovered I wasn't alone in my curl-hiding schemes. My friend Melissa, it turns out, has canceled first dates due to wet weather. Meredith, another curly-headed friend, discontinued Accutane treatments because they made her hair too dry to blow out. And Melina, a top entertainment editor, went so far as to turn down an assignment to interview Mel Gibson when her sleek style started to frizz. It was time, I realized, to consider coming out of the curl closet.
The fact that I was starting a new job presented the perfect opportunity. I had four weeks off so I made plans to head to Cape Cod. I couldn't wait to swim in the ocean and take a long, hot steam. I would be free of the pressures of blow-dry appointments, watching weather reports and adjusting workouts. I had only one option: wash-and-wear hair.
Within a week, my shocked-straight curls returned to ringlets. Frizz-free, they softly framed my face. And suddenly, I liked them. I recall thinking how much prettier and more natural I looked, and was a little sad I'd become such a fashion victim.
With curly hair, I felt lighter. I found myself flipping my locks less, cracking jokes and having more fun. I passed over the black clothes I had packed in favor of pale shades and florals. I even bought a few flippy dresses and skirts. I was happy knowing I wasn't enslaved to my SuperSolano blow-dryer.
As my vacation ended, I contemplated what it would be like living with my real hair in New York. My first day back was my first day at my new job.
As it turned out, both women working in my department were girls with curls. While Beth insisted on blowing hers out, Rachel wore her blonde corkscrews short - style that looked totally modern on her. I'd considered a similar haircut, but dismissed it when I remembered that my one short haircut had made me look like a human Q-Tip.
My curly hair, left long and flowing, I've finally realized, is a great antidote to my sometimes-too-serious life. Curls make me a great flirter - ringlets fall onto my face, hiding my expressions and creating mystery. I'm more fun; I don't panic about entering a steamy nightclub, walking in the rain or taking a late-night dip.
As with everything, it's all about balance. Missed social opportunities are far more depressing than a ticket from the fashion police. Now I only wear straight hair to work when I absolutely need that extra fashion edge. Otherwise, I save time, money and my sanity by washing, scrunching and walking out the door.