Listen, I’m just going to say it. I have no shame: I’m a beach bum, and I’m proud of it. As soon as the weather turns just barely warm enough, you’ll find me perched in the sand with a stack of magazines and sunglasses out to there. What you won’t find me with, though, is a sun hat, which I diligently bring with me every sunny day, and presently leave in my beach bag for the first three hours of the day. By the end of the season, my hair has seen better days. It’s dry from exposure to saltwater and wind, and believe it or not, it’s sunburned.
Still, I live in denial about these things. If I can convince myself that SPF 50 is going to save me from longterm sun damage, I can easily do the same that my hair isn’t going to suffer sun-worshipping consequences, either. So when I walked into Westerly’s Uptown Salon for some post-summer hair revival, I was a little taken aback by my hair being described as “fried.” It can’t be that bad, can it? I wondered to myself as I sat down in Sarah Potter’s chair, and she surveyed the damage. Sure, my curls seemed drier than usual, and there was more than a little frizz, but I attributed that to summer humidity. We decided to do some repairing treatments to get my hair ready for fall fashion season.
First, the color. My hair has never seen permanent dye – I love the color and the natural highlight variations it already has – but the dryness definitely made the top of my head and the ends of my hair a little bit lighter. Sarah applied a hydrating glaze with a chestnut tint to it – the glaze would amp up shine and gloss, while the tint would replenish my natural color for around six weeks. As I sat under the dryer, letting the glaze penetrate, I watched people buzz in and out of Uptown. I’d call the place Safari Chic – part glamorous, serene spa and part wild, with animal print touches all over the space. A group of women, clearly old friends who had booked their appointments together, laughed and chattered in the corner. It made me think of Dolly Parton’s salon, Truvy’s, from Steel Magnolias (without, you know, all the crying).
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