Friday, 11 July / Bad Hair Day

I'd say 12 years old was around the age I stopped wearing plaits in my hair. Gone were the days of choosing which colour pen to write with and redesigning my autograph on an hourly basis. I was yearning for adulthood; complete with a 'pob' haircut, a trousersuit and a mortgage (oh how naive). Clearly changing my hairstyle was the answer to this transition...

Details: Leather Jacket - Zara, Jumpsuit - New Look, Pumps - Dorothy Perkins, Clutch - Stripes Morpeth, Watch - Michael Kors

If my 'I woke-up-like-dis' appearance was remotely acceptable to the public eye then, of course, I'd be rocking it. Unfortunately, despite what my lower region may believe on a night out, I'm not in fact Beyonce. I 'woke-up' with a nest on my head, and if teasing my messy tresses into a milkmaid's bonce has the potential to look chic, then that's just what I'll do. Cue a socially awkward hairstyle on a shopping trip this week. I received a few "ooooh"'s and "aaaah"'s (thanks mum for your constant support) but the occasional "what have you done to your head?" surfaced also. Maybe at 20 years old I'm (worringly) already feeling nostalgic and yearning to retrieve my tamagotchi or confirm the rules of Buzz Off. Perhaps this is to blame for my hair-life crisis. I'm wearing plaits, I'm looking ridiculous and I'm loving every second of it. Apparently I'm also wasting a good few hours of my life overanalysing my hair. 

On that note, see you next time for the renaissance of bunches and sequin hairbands.