Hi friends and Bloggettes…

I’ve decided to grow my hair long for the wedding next summer.

I started my hair journey 5 years ago, when I had the awful “choppy” layers my butcher – (a-hem), I mean hairdresser, cut into my once-luscious locks. Upon discovering just how raccoon-tailed my hair looked in a simple pony, I immediately changed hairdressers. Like ASAP. I got my hair cut into a long bob and started over again. It took me a very long time to be able to trust anyone near my hair again, not because I was overly precious on the length, but because, quite frankly, some black hair dressers are straight up CRAZY. I almost felt like I was being somewhat punished for having a healthy head of lengthy hair; Hairdressers’ were either terribly rude, awfully slow, or simply lacking the basic technique of a good blow dry. I wanted my hair blown out, not my head blown off, scalp burnt and folicals and (healthy) ends completely obliterated. No thank you please.
It took ages to find Janel; a humble, beautiful Trinidadian lady (whose deliciously good with a pair of scissors). I discovered her by chance; after I returned to the Hairdressers, bemused by a botched blow dry – which reverted twenty minutes after leaving the shop and then left me fifty quid poorer. Instead of a refund, I got Janel, who worked wonders on my tresses. She gave me the best blow-dry (and a cut disguised sneakily as a trim) known to man. My hair stayed straight for weeks!!

So, for the last five years, I have been steadily growing out my hair. Yeah, I’ve made mistakes along the way; like henna, hair dye, brassy highlights, side fringes and a poor hair diet. But I, well more like my hair, bounced back…

My hair was stupidly arid after over dyeing it. I mean it was literally dry-as-dessert dry. You know those broom sticks witches supposedly ride past the moon at night? The bristles?… Like that. I was seriously praying for rain season or a definite monsoon to sort the dry tangled mess in which I left my hair in. Now I must disclaim that I am a skeptic about almost everything, especially when it comes to ground breaking hair science; like Morrocan Oil, Brasillian Keratin Treatments, Ammonia-free hair colours etc… I can honestly say I’ve tried every brand of hair care out there. (No lies, when you grow up a stones throw away from Dalson, its possible.) I’ve tried brands in the black hair shops, in the Asian hair shops disguised as black hair shops, in the pharmacies, online boutiques and just about everything on the shelves of Sally’s, Boots and Superdrug. After watching Chris Rock’s documentary “Good Hair”, I came to realise that most of these products have the same shit in them, but are all boldly claiming to possess, “cutting edge hair care technology”. I’m over it. I can probably relay an alphabetical ingredient list off the top of my head. That’s just how many products that I’ve used, that are supposedly entirely different from the rest of the market, but yet share the exact same ingredient list.

In saying that, I have admittedly found some winners along the way. I have to confess, I have had a positive experience with the Brasillian Keratin treatment. My bestie Abi showed me the light with the Nature Brazil range.. Since first taking the Latin plunge a year ago, my hair has been restored to its virgin status. Well, close enough…Although hair doesn’t have a hymen or anything, it’s kinda hard to understand what exactly is meant by the term Virgin hair.

Nature Brazil

So I went a bit Brasillian-Loco and bought into a line of products called La Brasilliana. The range has a shampoo (UNO) a conditioner (DUE) and a leave in serum (TRE). I have to report that I got so much more out of my keratin treatment whilst using these follow-on products. Even after the treatment wore off, my hair still felt stronger, softer and more manageable!

La Brasilliana

Here I am with my hair straightened.

Back shot for y’all.

So I had my hair sorted on the straight front. I needed to tame the curls, not John Frieda tame, where by their adverts indicate a curl-genocide, but keep my curls nourished, refined and moisturized between washes. I opted on taking a long term break from straightening, not only because I was broke, but also due to the fact that I couldn’t be arsed with the lactic acid building up in my arm when blow drying. It’s a lot.
So I needed to find an all round product that refined and restored whilst not being greasy, and not making me look like the let your soul glow guy from the movie, “Coming to America”.

Geri curls will be back one day, but I will not be a pioneer.

So after heafty research, and testing out a few market phenomenons here and there, I discovered the biggest secret known to hair care specialist all over the world: Saryna Key, Curl Control. Oh. My. Gosh. It is so good, I’m worried about posting about it. Not only is it already expensive (and can do without inflation due to supply and demand) it is hard to come by, with very few retailers stocking it in the UK at a reasonable price. I found it cheaper in Australia but foolishly forgot that I’d have to pay through my ass with customs! Stoke Newington Post Office held it at ransom until I settled the fee. Boo-urns.

Saryna Key Curl Control

But at 500g, it’s a steal for £40. I’m not just trying to justify my splurge here. Honestly, It lasts forever and really feels like some witch doctor cure for seriously damaged hair. Curl Control contains fortifying natural ingredients, mixed with hair proteins, folic acids, collagen, keratin and enriching oils. It’s amazing. Smells amazing. Feels amazing. I saw and felt results like never before; my curls bounced back like a slinky! Four months later and I have back length hair that is strong, silky and thicker. Curls that are bouncier and more defined.

Here I am with the treatment on wet hair.

Here I am with it rinsed and towel-dried.

It’s sooo important to make the right investments in hair care. You only have one head of hair so treat it right!! That is of course unless you have multiple lace-front wigs lying about for whatever reason… Then, I guess that bold status doesn’t really stand for you at all.

Laters,

La Minx
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