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ELLEBeautyPhotography: Getty Images, Jason Lloyd-Evans.ELLE.COM/UK Nove mbe r 2O19assumptions about who I was. According to them, I was cool; I was
a ‘fashion person’! I had edge and authority, and clearly loads
of confidence. And who was I to tell them otherwise?
I started adding to the effect by wearing black cashmere roll-
neck tops and deliberately ugly shoes. If red lipstick is the beauty
equivalent of the LBD, then my single white streak was the Saint
Laurent leather jacket. Expensive, understated and just a little bit
badass. Eleven inches of fashion anarchy. A fellow journalist even
announced when she saw me: ‘Your hair! Someone make that woman
an editor!’ Almost overnight I had been elevated to a whole new level
of aspiration and I planned on hanging out for a while.
Did it suit me? Probably not. Whether
the blonde stripe actually looked nice sat
among my copper hair was irrelevant. It
was the reinvention that appealed. My
not-so-natural Mallen streak created a
more directional version of me. And I was
into it. As colourist at Larry King, and master
of the rogue blonde streak, Amy Fish told
me, ‘It’s like power dressing for your hair.’he infatuation was finally
complete. I’d shot my
hair with semi-permanent
self-assurance, and it had
worked. From then on,
I wanted more: more compliments, more
confidence, more bleach. And that’s how I found myself instructing
a polite but terrified colourist to dye half of my entire head white
blonde. Five hours and two rounds of bleach later, and my once-
subtle streak was bigger, better and more attention-seeking than
ever. Forget Geri Halliwell, I’d become Cruella de Vil.
The novelty factor was real. On the left, my newfound platinum-
framed profile meant I looked eerily like my twin sister, a fellow bleach
enthusiast. Turn to the right? I was fresh Karen Elson copper. If strangers
considered me ‘cool’ before, my half and half dye job had taken me
firmly into the realms of ‘brave’. Strangers did double takes. Peers
stared just a little too long. A child pointed at me in the street. As for me,T
I was just enjoying the ride. And yet, ironically, the Catch 22 of being
‘cool’ is that you have to try really hard. Colour-coordinated outfits,
matching my make-up to my newly altered complexion, the unexpected
threat of chlorine in swimming pools – everything was an issue for
at least one half of my head. I honed my exhaustive hair wash routine
to just twice a week in an attempt to minimise the sheer amount of
hours spent shampooing it in bunches. Having a five-part product system
dedicated to just 5O% of your head is 1OO% tiring. A lazily flipped
side parting was a thing of the past. And don’t even get me started on
air drying. Nonchalance had officially left the building.
Because, here’s the thing: when you ambush your hair with
bleach twice, it doesn’t tend to like it.
Why? So. Many. Reasons. Bleach strips
the pigment from your hair, leaving it
coarse, brittle and broken. Think split
ends but on an entirely new level. Add
to that a brassiness that demands
purple shampoo every other wash, and
an unnerving chewing gum texture
when wet, and you’ve got a surefire
way to end up with the most high-
maintenance hair routine ever.
Eventually, I stopped styling it entirely,
the thought of taming the unruly white
side too much for a pre-work Wednesday
morning. I fell into a new signature
look – the scraped-back bun. Sat
at my desk with my two-tone hair wrestled into a knot, it hit me. In
my bid to be cool, I’d lost the art of being me.
Six months of Cruella was enough. I wanted my hair back.
I wanted the hours of my life back. Hell, I wanted mundane old
me back. And if that meant forgetting the ‘fashion streak ’ and
foregoing my temporary fashion shell, then so be it. With the
bleach went the stares, the squeals from curious acquaintances and,
inevitably, the aura of seeming like a ‘someone’. The thing was, although
I’d hidden ‘me’ behind my hair for almost a year, in a rom-com-worthy
turn of events, my false confidence had morphed into the real deal.
I’d outgrown the streak, and grown up in the process.“ SUDDE NLY,
I HAD EDGE and
A U T H O R I T Y.
AND who WA S
I TO TELL them
OT HERWISE? “
The NEW NEW DOs
THE TROLL DOLL
Block-colour paint-pot shades
take the place of pastel hues
this season. Aim for abrasively
bright, then keep goingTHE LEGO MULLET
The least likely sartorial
inspiration at fashion week,
dig out an old pot of
gel for this super-slick lookTHE COUTURE BOWL CUT
Spotted atop 53 models
at Fendi Couture,
consider Sam McKnight’s
retro bowl cuts the new
off-duty ‘shag’THE ‘NOT’ KNOT
Take last season’s silk
scrunchie, balance it on
your forehead and you’ve got
AW19’s go-to party styleTHE TIDAL WAVE
Between Ryan Lo and
Louis Vuitton, the quiff
is back with a gritty twist.
Think wafty in the front,
chignon in the back