New Zealand fashion and lifestyle blog

Smooth Talking

Tell any girl that you’re in the midst of a bout of bad hair and her empathy will be real and immediate; tell your boyfriend, and the reaction could be less endearing, let alone reassuring…

Bad hair days are notorious when it comes to the right side of the bed.

Responsible for all manner of mishaps that rear their heads with a disconcerting synchronicity, bad hair days are the pits. There’s no other way to put it.

Unpredictable in nature, their ability to erode one’s decision-making process to the point of tears is, on a rational level, utterly ridiculous. Last night that outfit may have been sharp and delectable to boot but right now it just feels like a frump’s morning tea.

What’s more, the bad hair pickle is a peculiarly female zone where men tend to wreak havoc. Tell any girl that you’re in the midst of a bout of bad hair and her empathy will be real and immediate; tell your boyfriend, and the reaction could be less endearing, let alone reassuring.

Bad hair days are inextricably linked to that irksome voice which insists on desiring what’s not naturally ours. For me, that’s straight hair. With a mop of wild curls that are more comfortable as frizz, common practice in my house is to bundle on a headscarf and hope for the best.

While making friends with the hair straightener could be seen as the obvious solution, in reality it would never work. Why? Because the other issue that we’re dealing with here is laziness. Ingrained laziness. The kind of laziness that just couldn’t swallow the additional time required in a morning routine that is already pared back to the bone. The kind of laziness that is happier to conjure a messy knot and cross its fingers that a permanent display of beach-bum locks won’t actually eventuate in dreadlocks.

Oh, because that’s the OTHER thing. Like many people whose daily battle involves knotty, wild curly frizz, my head of locks is notoriously dry. Snap, crackle, pop, that’s me, walking down the street. I’ve been known to resort to all manner of odd concoctions in an attempt to sooth my strands into a salvaged state. Raw egg? Tick, albeit in a scrambled-head kind of way. (The results, quite annoyingly, were great.) Avocado? Check. (As it turns out, they’re better on toast.) Vinegar, olive oil, the list goes on, constantly exploiting my adventurous approach to beauty but only occasionally coming up with the goods.

So it’s no surprise that I’m always on the lookout for product that functions as a hair-rescue operation. My oft-foolhardy frugality also ensures that, if I am going to indulge in product, then it’s got to be good. KMS California, whose wild-child marketing is all about embracing the “authentic you”, offers up a plethora of options for folks like me with permanently disorderly dos. The MoistRepair range is designed for dry and damaged hair and offers the basic shampoo and conditioning products, along with a leave in conditioner, revival crème and specialized therapy treatment.

Packaged in cornflower blue bottles, the shampoo and conditioner smelled heavenly. Vanilla and citrus played out rosily, although I couldn’t find any mention of the latter in the ingredients. Both were creamy, rich products that worked wonders on my hair, resulting in a soft, curly mass. Approval rating: high.

However, the Therapy Treatment left me less than impressed. Firstly, the twist-cap is confusing. I know, this sounds like a trifling, inconsequential thing but it a) really flummoxed me and b) resulted in a broken tube. I’m not the most practical of types but opening an object isn’t a challenge my admittedly blonde brain is often fazed by. However, what looks like a twist-cap actually isn’t; a sophisticated (maybe too sophisticated) valve system appears to only need a squeeze. Yes. You read that right. Maybe the challenge here is really to manufacture hair packaging systems that even a blonde can negotiate. That being said, if the product itself was delicious I’d probably forgive its foibles and start again. What I found, sadly, was a product whose viscosity was starchy to the point of stiffness. Perhaps it reminded me of the days when pashing hair-gelled boys was a regular on the menu, but regardless of the connotations, the performance of this moisture-rescue operation didn’t gel with my expectations. Approval rating: not so high.

Not to be perturbed by minor incidents with tubing systems, the next KMS product offered a much smoother ride. Silk Sheen, a polishing serum designed with frizz attacks in mind, is a small but heavenly godsend. Okay, so while my head is never going to be the proud owner of Jennifer Aniston style waves, it can at least be in relieved possession of fluff-free curls. And, to really fly the flag, its packaging is foolproof – blondes and all.


Like KMS, Goldwell are a regular on the salon circuit. This says enough in terms of performance – those savvy hair choppers know (you hope) their stuff. The Dual Senses Rich Repair range purports to fix all those nasty things that stressed locks are infamous for. Again, vanilla is the strongest note that comes across, sweet and intense and musky in both shampoo and conditioner. Used a couple of times a week and my hair is feeling like a new born babe, soft and delicious. And because patience in the morning isn’t a virtue I’m renowned for, the 60Second Treatment suits me fine. Damn fine. Only problem is, breakfast doesn’t smell as good as its heady, floral fragrance.


I guess that’s the thing with bad hair days. Sometimes even breakfast doesn’t help. While my head scarf habit isn’t likely to disappear altogether – my love for silk sashays, pretty patterns and stripes is too endemic for that – at least it can be relegated to Plan B.

Crackle-free locks are one thing; a frizz-free expanse, quite another.

Armed with that handy bag of tricks, I challenge bad hair days to a duel…

By Willow Sharp 19 March 2012


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