So today strolling on a trip midtown, I wondered into a salon and decided it was time for me to go ombre. Except my foreign hair dresser who barely spoke english, decided that he would strip my hair of color making it go green and brassy. I kid you not. As tears were almost streaming down my face, I was then asked if I wanted a hair cut. WHEN ALL I wanted to do was rush out of there
Its fair to say I had a semi
Not knowing WHAT to do, I rushed uptown to my normal hair dresser inside the St Regis and stood their like a deer in headlights until he managed to ask what I had done, where I had done it and why I had done it. Unable to formulate words, he said he could fit me in at 10.30 am tomorrow.
It was approaching 4 pm, as I was walking and counting down the minutes until I could go into hiding within my apartment. But as I was giving up and kicking myself (for once again doing something spontaneous and stupid)!, Oscar Blandi was screaming my name....Well kind of. I walked into the salon that was closing and three phone calls later, a stylist came in JUST to correct my mess of a hair.
I either looked hopeless or helpless as I embarrassingly had to explain my messy monday to a team of six people, and saw plenty of blondes leaving the salon. Thinking in my head that it should be called Oscar Blondey than Blandi ( I then started to miss my blonde even more, and closed my eyes until the nightmare was over).
Many hundrads of dollars, tears, and hours later-I am finally on my route back to blonde. Lesson learnt? Never go to a salon that you DON'T know, never make a spare the moment decision and never EVER buy a discount unless your ready for disaster.
|Once upon a Blonde|
|Disaster # 1|
|What Ombre ISN'T! (look carefully and see green!)|
|Oscar Blandi to the rescue|
|Out of hiding and into shameless selfies after Oscar Blandi|
|Serafina and a much needed drink! (ombre-ish)|