SAD-to-HAPPY Story of a Woman's WSL Hair

JFK

Well-Known Member
This story was so interesting. I just wanted to share. I think her problem was that she didn't have a sense of style so her WSL added to her non-social life.


Can a haircut change your life? Liz Jones chopped off her waist-length locks to find out


Last updated at 8:25 PM on 30th November 2008


My last haircut was at the age of five, when I decided to grow out a monkish bob with a heavy fringe.

I quite liked the fringe because it hid my forehead, and the bob because it swung in front of my face, concealing my rather flat, uninteresting profile, and so I decided I needed an even more impenetrable first line of defence.
As I got older, my hair grew with me, a heavy, often greasy, invariably split-ended curtain behind which I could hide. I have never used my long hair to flirt with, coquettishly, to plait, or to put up in elaborate 'dos'.

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Longing for change: Liz with her trademark locks (left) and now with her sexy new look

Oh dear me no. It was just a long, heavy, hairy version of a burka, out of which two big dark eyes would peep, nervously, at the world.
Having long hair - by the time I was 12, it reached way past my bottom - became my trademark, my USP. I was always 'the girl with the long hair'.
It was very hard to look after, like a giant, unruly pet. All of my pocket money would go on sachets of pale blue Wella conditioner, and vaguely scientific-looking white bottles of Protein 21, which promised to mend split ends (it didn't; I was reduced to snipping them off, one by one).
I always had to be excused from swimming because my hair wouldn't fit in a floral rubber hat, and I wasn't allowed to drip in the next class.

Sometimes, I would miss my stop on the bus because the person next to me was inadvertently sitting on my hair, and I was too timid to ask them to move.
As a teenager, I would daydream about a boy softly pushing my hair from my face and exclaiming: 'Oh my God, but you're beautiful.'

Of course, no one ever did that. Only relatively recently did I find out that at my local youth club I was known as 'the witch'.
Very young, I developed a phobia of hairdressers - my mum would occasionally encourage me to go 'just for a trim'; I always refused - that I still have.

While I am sure there are lots of women who enjoy sitting in front of a brightly lit mirror being 'pampered', chatting about their holiday plans, letting someone else take charge of their head, I find the whole process tortuous.

My first ever, tentative visit to a hairdresser came when, as a 20-year-old student in London, I discovered Molton Brown in South Molton Street.
This was a pioneering, completely 'natural' salon that didn't use hairdryers, hairspray, rollers or peroxide, but instead only finger drying, 'Molton Browners' (bits of wire covered in foam and fabric, around which the ends of the hair were twisted to produce waves), and vegetable rinses.

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Long hair: Not necessarily the feel-good option


I allowed a beautiful Japanese girl called Ingrid with long, black, straight hair that shone like a mirror to trim just one centimetre from my unruly ends. I continued to trust Ingrid, and only Ingrid, until the salon sadly closed down, propelling me into the cruel world of the 'celebrity' hairdresser (by this time I had a job and a salary, as opposed to a student grant, to devote to the upkeep of my hair).
I tried the Long Hair Clinic at Harrods, where a man in a white coat told me my hair had to be all one length, so I spent several years growing out my fringe. I went to Ellis Helen on Walton Street, wanting long curls like those sported by actress Andie MacDowell on the cover of Harpers & Queen.

I went to Keith at Smile. And to Nicky Clarke. I consulted trichologist Philip Kingsley to ensure my hair was in tip-top condition. But I always, always, always emerged - often after a fight, vowing never to return again - with my long centre-parted tresses intact.
Back in the Nineties, I was forced to make twice-weekly visits to Aveda in Marylebone High Street, and later High Holborn to have my grey roots retouched.

My hair became blacker and blacker, coarser and coarser, but still I would not let it go.
'How about something a little softer?' Antoinette at Aveda would beseech me, but I always refused, not meeting her eye in the mirror (I always studiously avoided looking up at my reflection). I honestly think at this point I believed people who wanted me to cut my hair were merely jealous that their's didn't grow this long.
I suppose, too, I was trying to hang on to my youth. Not much in my life had changed since I was 12 - still no man to love me, still no children - and I think in a way my hair reflected that. My hair hadn't moved on because I hadn't, not really.
My life started to revolve around my hair. Because it was so long, it picked up a lot of dirt, so I washed it every day, which meant I would spend £30 a week on conditioner (I have tried every brand known to womankind, graduating from Wella to Aveda, through Kiehl's, Shu Uemura, Philip B and Frederic Fekkai, until finally alighting on the organic products by Louise Galvin for thick, coloured, damaged hair, which make me smell like a meadow) and take hours trying to detangle and dry it.
Having long hair affected the way I dressed, too. Not wanting to look too floaty or girly, I adopted a uniform of Helmut Lang trouser suits teamed with severe white shirts (never blouses).
I even wore a white Helmut Lang trouser suit for my wedding and, looking back at my wedding photos, I can see now that I looked not like Bianca Jagger at all, which was the intention, but like a strange, thin man with long hair; exactly like Alice Cooper, in fact.
So why, you might ask, did I decide to finally, finally, finally have my hair cut? I suppose, partly, it was all tied up (not literally) with getting divorced last October.

Throughout my short marriage, my husband hated my long hair. He never found it remotely sexy; in fact, he found it the opposite.
He was always complaining that it got wound around his fingers, and inveigled its way into his mouth, making him gag, and felt 'like horse's hair'. He said my hair made my face 'too long'; that my image was that of 'an old hag'.

And while I took some of his points on board, I could never have allowed a man to dictate what I did with my hair, and so I grew it even longer, just to annoy him.
Partly, too, I decided I needed to do something different with my hair because I am hurtling towards the age of 50, and although there are a few, exceptional women past that landmark age who still look OK with waist-length tresses - Franca Sozzani, the editor of Italian Vogue, springs to mind - I was coming to the realisation I might be looking a little ridiculous.
I was also beginning to feel bored with always getting up in the morning and looking exactly the same. I was fed up, I suppose, of always being me. And so that is how I found myself, last Wednesday morning, in the Knightsbridge salon of Paul Edmonds, sitting tensely in a chair while he hovered ominously behind me with a sharp pair of scissors.

I had chosen Paul because a friend, Anabel, had recently allowed him to cut her longish blonde hair and he hadn't made her look 'remotely mumsy': my biggest fear.

I had taken along with me the latest glossy magazine ad for Dior, featuring the Italian beauty Monica Bellucci, her long, dark hair having been transformed into a new, sexy, choppy, glamorous length that stopped just beyond her ears.
 
Paul, very kindly, did not start laughing uproariously when I showed him the photograph, but said, yes, that look could suit me.
He told me I do not, in fact, have a long, thin face, but possess an enviably heart-shaped one, with high cheekbones. He told me that by having the heavy weight of my hair chopped off, my big eyes would at last be shown off. I would no longer look all droopy and hangdog.
I told him on no account did I want to leave the salon looking like Beryl Reid. He told me that, as far as he knew, no one had ever left his salon looking like Beryl Reid and so, for the first time in my life, I put my trust in a man. And, also, for the first time in my life, a man didn't let me down.
Seven hours later (yes, seven. He took it all very slowly and carefully, although he wouldn't let me keep the hair that was piling up on the floor to stuff a cushion; he told me this would be creepy and would definitely put any potential suitors off), a new me began to emerge.
For the first time ever, you could see my face, and my neck, and my back. I still refused to look at myself in the mirror, but I did let him show me the back of my head, which looked lovely, all swingy instead of lank, like the creature that climbs up out of the well in the Japanese horror movie The Ring. 'You look . . .' started Paul. 'Don't tell me I look younger,' I said. 'Yes, you do. You really, really do.'
When I went to collect my jacket, the coat girl told me I looked beautiful - the first time anyone has said that to me. I told her she would say that, but she insisted: 'No, really. I just can't stop looking at you.' The photographer, probably in a bid to get me to smile rather than grimace at the camera, told me that I looked 'hot', and that I would probably get chatted up on the train journey home.
Well, no, I didn't get chatted up on the way home, but a couple of men did glance in my direction. I know this will sound pathetic, but I did feel more bouncy on the way home, to have a bit more energy, and I started to smile more. I actually looked people in the eye.
I started to think that, perhaps, the Chinese superstition that you hold bad luck in your hair could be right, that by cutting it all off I was getting rid of the past, of the old, pessimistic me (although I was rather glad my horse still whinnied at me in recognition from across the field). I was still me, but, hopefully, a better me.
I took my new hair out on Saturday night, to an open air concert at a stately home, and for the first time ever felt confident enough to wear a short, sexy dress: a black, clingy Azzedine Alaia.
Because I felt like a different person - not the one who never got a single date in high school, not the one whose husband cheated on her - I acted differently, too, chatting to people when normally I would have been too shy.
Nobody has asked me out yet, but - and I may be wildly optimistic here - I do feel, for the first time, to be on the cusp of starting the next chapter of my life, rather than grimly trying to hang on to the last one.
PAUL EDMONDS, 217 Brompton Road, London SW3, and 166 Brompton Road, London SW3; tel 020


Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1028475/Can-haircut-change-life-Liz-Jones-chopped-waist-length-locks-out.html#ixzz0xKpP6kow
 
Thanks for this article...

I don't think that long hair suits everyone and there is actually a thread that discusses that...She admitted that she used her hair as a "hiding spot" so I'm glad that she opted for shorter and for her that equated to "sexy"...good for her!
 
I think she would be an example of a woman who didn't look better with long hair. I think some women own and rock long hair but I also think others use it as a form of...subtle camouflage to hide an undesired feature, I recall some of the women in the other thread even saying much the same. "I have a big head so long hair..." "I have a fat face so long hair..."

I think it was good for her to get a haircut because for her it definitely got rid of some of the baggage and forced her to style and care for her hair (and probably herself) more. Good for her and I wish her all the best of luck.
 
Yeah. I definitely think she looks better with shorter hair.

She may have looked good with the WSL hair as well if she knew how to do nice up-dos and different styles that flattered her face.
 
I loved this. Thanks. For those of us who've never had super long hair...long hair is the stuff of fairy-tales and men turning their heads and opening doors. When my hair is long I get more attention with every inch. I am tall, so long hair really suits me.
 
Very interesting story!! This is precisely why I do not want to grow my hair out to extreme longer lengths( there is no purpose for it and it isn't flattering on me). I find many times that I happier without heavy amount of hair. Good for her, I know she feels liberated and sexy :grin:.
 
Great story! I actually think she looked better with long hair but I understand that we shouldn't hide behind our hair....and as India Arie says "I am not my hair". I'm glad she let it go and is starting a new chapter in her life. :yep:
 
No offense but hair that long on some women ages them. My hair is shoulder length now with layers and I think I am short, spunky and sexy. I am trying to get to APL but that is my length goal.
 
I'll go ahead and be the oddball here and say she looked much better with the longer hair than the new shorter cut. She actually looks older in that 2nd photo.

She admits she had issues to work through. If the hair cut helped her overcome them than more power to her and I'm glad she's happy.

:yep:
 
My first ever, tentative visit to a hairdresser came when, as a 20-year-old student in London, I discovered Molton Brown in South Molton Street.
This was a pioneering, completely 'natural' salon that didn't use hairdryers, hairspray, rollers or peroxide, but instead only finger drying, 'Molton Browners' (bits of wire covered in foam and fabric, around which the ends of the hair were twisted to produce waves), and vegetable rinses.


This is SO interesting to me that they had a salon like that back in the day. I wonder what all they were doing to achieve an ALL natural salon to that extent.
 
Loved the story, thanks for sharing! She looks much better with the shorter hair, as the longer really did make her face droop. Her ex-husband was a *insert expletive here* though...she had that hair before you proposed, after you proposed, when you got married, and after...so why is it suddenly this huge issue now? Huge enough to cheat? The world is crazy sometimes...oh well, at least she's cut off the past's weight and moved on. Best of luck to her.
 
She definitely looks better with her Hair Cut, the first pic looks like she was trying to hold her NECK up, :nono:

Second pic she looks like she could take on the world :)

I also agree Style then length you can easily grow your hair when you love what your wearing.
 
I just wanted to add I love the changes between the two photos in ways other than hair.

The first photo says: Okay they're taking a photo of me and I have to smile.

Whereas the second: I finally feel good about myself and I don't have to force a smile, this is real.


You can see a lot of wisdom in the eyes of the second photo.
 
It seems to me the issue is much deepr than hair and she used it to hide her inward self. But there seem to be a lack of knowing how to care for it so it can be beautiful, sounds like she wore it down alot but as we see here on this board, there are lots of ways of picking up long hair...using twists and clips and hair sticks et al. Now her husband probably felt the way he did because she did not feel good about herself. Kind of like if you don't take of yourself, no one else will. I don't know. But like I said before she was dealing with inner issues coupled with not knowing how to deal with her hair. That could make a difference. The short cut does look nice on her.

AA
 
As far as the husband goes he knew how she was before he married her so he had no need to complain. Of course I'm sure her insecurities played a huge role in the marriage also.

Personally I would never want hair that long. My limit is going to be BSL OR MBL and If I do have it that long it will probably have to be in layers
 
I personally think her face look twice as big with the shorter cut, but the long hair wasn't very well cared for...

It's probably good to change it up if you use your hair as a curtain to hide from the world behind.

That's hard to do with natural afro hair though. :grin: We get noticed wherever we go! :)
 
Definitely interesting... although her issue was clearly not the length of her hair.

ITA.
Her issue was that she had low self-esteem and problems asserting herself at a very young age, so she grew her hair to use as a security blanket. So now that the blanket has been removed, I think she feels that by proxy, her issues are gone. But taking away a child's nightlight doesn't make him or her any less afraid of the dark. I'd really like to drop in on her a few months from now, because I feel that deep down, nothing has changed. And I think she'll probably not feel all the way better until she gets those issues worked out, because they were there before her hair and chances are, they're still here after it's gone.

And even though she didn't look best with her long hair, she could have looked better if she cared for it. Of course, if you walk around with thick, dark, snarly, greasy, split-ended hair to your waist, people are going to call you a hag or a witch. But I'm sure that if she cared for it and didn't let it get all raggedy, it could have been somewhat of an asset. Or if she had styled it occasionally...wore some updos, wore some curls, did a french braid, ironed it straight, got some color....done something, goddamn. I mean, no matter what race you are, if you have long hair and aren't keeping it up, you will look a hot mess.
 
^^ I agree completely. I can't say she looks better with the shorter hair because when she had long hair she didn't care for it at all. In the first pic she's got a frumpy outfit on and long "unkempt", dry, un-combed looking hair. She is also photographed against a dull, white background. In the second pic they gave her a make over and put some better clothes on her and some make up along with the sleek new style and a more flattering colored background. I think all that makes a difference in people's perception.

She kept complaining about it getting coarser and coarser as it grew longer, etc., because she never learned how to care for her hair type as it grew. She's blaming her hair for issues that have nothing to do with hair. Getting a hair cut won't solve her problems. And I think any woman can rock long hair if she understand her hair type and takes good care of it.
 
She looks 2x better with the longer hair, to me. She looks like she could be her own mom with the short hair and not as attractive.
 
Totally agree with you on this one. She looked happier and lighter with the longer hair and looks much older and insecure with the shorter do. There is also a heaviness to her in the 2nd pic and the dark eyeliner didn't do anything for her either.

I'll go ahead and be the oddball here and say she looked much better with the longer hair than the new shorter cut. She actually looks older in that 2nd photo.

She admits she had issues to work through. If the hair cut helped her overcome them than more power to her and I'm glad she's happy.

:yep:
 
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I don't know why anyone would compare the two pictures. One is in a sweatshirt with no makeup, and the other is in a sexy dress with makeup. She looks way more put together in the second pic, but she probably had a stylist give her the look. If she had a stylist fix her up with long hair, we would all probably like that look too.

It reminds me of the makeover shows when they make them look as frumpy as possible for the before pic and then have someone give them a full new look for the after. I never really believe the pictures. It's like apples to oranges...
 
This was a woman too shy to ask someone to stop sitting on her hair. Sorry, but I can't relate. Someone has their butt on my hair, best believe they will know about it.
 
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