Image: Supplied.
I’m a creature of habit.
My daily brekkie consists of vegemite on toast (with the addition of avocado when I feel like living on the edge), I watch the same news program every night, and I’ve worn winged eyeliner every single day for the better part of the past decade – except for that one time an airline lost my luggage and I was forced to go *gasp* bare-faced…that was a dark day indeed.
So no one was more surprised than me to find myself sitting in a hairstylist’s chair requesting a full fringe à la Zooey Descha-bangs.
Up until that point I’d been in a major hair rut – my locks were long and healthy, but I never actually did anything with them. Instead of using my strands to frame my face and help flesh out my personal style, my hair was thoughtlessly tossed into a topknot or secured in a mousey ponytail that did nothing to flatter my features.
One day I’d simply had enough – I couldn’t stand looking at my ho-hum hair one second longer, so I hightailed it to the hairdresser clutching a picture of Lou Doillon while silently begging the hair gods for mercy. (WATCH: How to do the perfect braid. Post continues after the video.)
A few quick snips of a hairstylist’s scissors was all it took to transform me into a new woman. Not to be melodramatic, but when I stepped out of the salon that day, I swear the sun shone brighter, the air smelled sweeter, and I had a veritable skip in my (eternally uncoordinated) step.