The Spring of Dying Dangerously
I’m going to a dinner tonight…not just any dinner, but the 14/4 Literary Dinner, which is part of the Windsor Literary Festival and features 14 authors who move from table to table during the night to meet different guests. I have a gorgeous handmade vintage scarlet chiffon frock, and fabulous accessories, and I decided I wanted to put my hair up and look really glam.
Two problems. One. My hair is too short to put up properly in a glam fashion. This is a problem I’m prepared for, because I bought this great fake hair thing for when I dress up like a Regency gentlewoman. However, we now have problem two. I bought the fake hair thing when I had brown hair, and my hair is currently red.
Now, you would think this wasn’t much of a problem. I’m not all into this red hair shade anyway, so the easiest thing to do would be to dye my hair back to brown, to match the fake hair thing. Simple. Right?
Not right. The thing is, I have a history of dying my hair immediately before Very Important Events. And sometimes, it goes horrifically wrong. Like the giraffe-neck debacle before the Festival of Writing. Or the Wicked Witch of the West/Fairy Liquid disaster before the RNA Conference. After the Wicked Witch/Fairy Liquid disaster, I vowed never ever to dye my hair again myself, and to let professionals handle it.
The thing is, that letting professionals handle your hair colour requires making an appointment several days in advance, and spending at least sixty quid. Whereas doing it yourself takes twenty minutes and costs just upwards of a fiver. And you get Boots points! Yes!
I asked on Twitter whether I should dye it, and everyone who knew me when I washed my hair with Fairy Liquid screamed “NOOOOOOO!” And everyone who didn’t, said, “Yeah, why not? Live dangerously!”
It was that phrase that got me. My book is called The Summer of Living Dangerously after all. I sort of had to.
I put on the dye. I waited for thirty minutes. I washed it off. It made worryingly little mess.
This is the result.
Perhaps this post should have been titled The Spring of Dying Ineffectually.
Still, it is a shade lighter, though you can’t quite tell in the photo, and more like my natural colour, and nice and shiny. And with any luck the dinner will be dimly-lit. I might use the fake hair anyway, even though I have told everyone about it on the internet.
Now that’s living dangerously.
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