Copper

So copper hair is not for me. 
Or at least it wasn't. I should start by saying that my father is a natural red-head, and I was born with a "copper streak" - to put it into my mothers words. My mother has insistently told me on many an occasion that her greatest fear while pregnant with me, her first child to my father, was that i too would come out "a wranger". So you could say that my lack of appreciation of copper hair has been instilled in me from a very young age.

I turn 23 next week. I've been hairdressing full-time for five years. The number of clients I have attempted (usually successfully) to talk out of copper hair due to my own personal hang-up is obscene. Twenty two years it has taken me to learn to appreciate copper hair.

My conversion begun around this time last year. My hair was red, quite possibly my favourite hair colour, when I decided to take to the bleach and go blonde. And of course, I instead left the salon a magnificent shade of summer copper red.

This was only the beginning of my love affair with all things copper.

Over the summer my hair gradually became blonder and blonder, and then just last week, with the turn of the season, I went back to copper. It is now here where I feel safe, and do intend to stay.

Am I not concerned that I am now my mothers worst nightmare? a "wranger"? Well, I was. Until the day after the colouring. I was at the McDonalds drive-through in Cremorne, ordering my super healthy cheeseburger lunch, when the awkward fifteen year old behind the window gawked and basically spat at me, that she "loved" my hair.

Little does that girl know, she has confirmed in me what I've been suspecting now for months. Copper hair is for me.

In this light, I'll be posting pictures of all things copper for the next few days, and my new found favourite accessories and colour-palette for the "wrangers" of the world.

Enjoy!