Conquering the Curl

It is a truth universally acknowledged that every girl in possession of curly hair must be in want of GHDs. As the dissatisfied owner of that “coarse and rebellious hair” which requires every Frizz-Eze product under the sun to transform it into something that doesn’t resemble a small shrub, I feel I am well qualified to state that my recent encounter with one of these new hot pink miracles was nothing short of life changing. For a few precious days, I felt strangely liberated; I swished, shook, back-combed, forward-combed, sideways-combed -hell, I even roundabout-combed; and where before this would have resulted in a highly realistic impression of a lion cub in a 200 volt plug, my new hair took every shake in its sleek, straight stride, each strand returning back to its own immaculately coifed position with a persistency that made me want to renounce my faith and pledge my undying devotion to the miracle of heat treatment.

‘But it’s so BORING!’ cry those to whom straight hair is more of an everyday occurrence than some sort of outer-body experience. I have to disagree; straight hair is exactly as interesting as you make it. Its beauty lies in its potential. If you are currently sporting shoulder-length hair with no layers and a centre-parting that would make Casanova seem bent then yes, boring is certainly a justifiable description. If, however, you are boasting a sleek bob worthy of Catherine Zeta Jones in Chicago, you are living proof that when it comes to cutting-edge style, the only way is straight.

Another common complaint of the straights is greasiness. Whereas I could feasibly leave my rebellious locks for days without washing, safe in the knowledge that they will never betray my want of hygiene, my straight-haired friends only have to think about neglecting their daily shampoo and their hair shines in indignance. Yet, however much I appreciate my grease-concealing curls during the exam period (when even the move from pyjama bottoms to tracksuit bottoms seems pointless), the fact that I can feel like a vagrant but not look it is of little comfort so long as showering is a valid option.

In the end, the only protest these girls can lodge at their hair with any real justification is that “everyone has it”; and this is little consolation for the likes of me who can only see in this epidemic of straight hair clear evidence of its superiority. Everyone has it, because everyone likes it – and this includes boys as well as girls. In a recent attempt to reassure me that my hair had its merits, one male friend commented that I had a great “morning after” look. Had I just got up, I would have been flattered. As it was, it was the 8pm the night before and I had just spent the last hour and a considerable amount of hair serum trying to transform my mop into something vaguely presentable.

There are rare moments when I am proud of my curls – when a ringlet spirals in a particularly satisfying way, or when I am told after another incandescent affair with the GHDs has come to an end that “curly hair is so much more you anyway”. Curly hair is by no means a catogerical disaster, and the image of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman is one which should be firmly implanted in every curled head. But after Pretty Woman comes Notting Hill with the straight, sophisticated hair of Anne; and whilst we may all of us bemoan the loss of Roberts’ tousled mane, if there’s a curly-haired girl out there who wouldn’t jump at the chance to own the straighteners that conquered it, I would love to hear from you.