images; 1. sylvia from streethearts, 2. kinga rajzak in POP magazine, 3.rianne ten haken at proenza schouler SS10
Back in August, I was standing in a long long line at the cashpoint in Spitalfields, London when a woman ahead of me caught my eye. This fact alone isn't unusual for East London, but this woman in particular had the most incredible hair; a sort of burnt orange colour, very plainly dyed, long and simply parted at the centre. I was instantly in love and proceeded to watch with anticipation as the line grew shorter debating whether or not to ask for a photograph (I didn't know quite how I was going to explain her hair to my own hairdresser with my 'I want to look exactly like her!' style request.) Alas, the queue eventually shrunk and I watched her walk past me as she replaced her card into her wallet without saying anything. These three photographs however are (if my memory, six months later is to be trusted) an pretty accurate representation of said woman's barnet. And now I must enter a new debate, a debate that I am fully aware is intensely boring to any second parties as whether or not to take the plunge and book that hair appointment. Armed with a packet of hair dye last night, I went for a Butterscotch ginger shade, but unsurprisingly not much came of that bar a slightly redder shade to my hair which is lovely albeit barely noticeable.