I am blessed – and cursed – with naturally curly hair. At home, the right tools, crèmes and chemicals allow me to quickly adopt just about any hairstyle – and my hair complies. But when I vacation I don’t have the appropriate arsenal of product and tools for the change of climate. All hair breaks loose and my locks check out for a possibly-deserved reprieve from the daily routine.
Like most women, I just don’t feel good when I am sporting bad hair. And hats are simply not appropriate in all environments, nor comfortable in scorching heat. I’m a hat person in winter. Period.
When in the Dominican Republic, I saw photo of my Shirley Temple head, rolled my eyes and gasped to myself, “What the hair?” My brain demanded clearly to my conscience, “Who is that and what have you done to my “look?” A quick little braid provided an immediate solution to my bad-hair-life frustration. Thanks, Li, for the brilliant idea! Short hair or long, a braid is a great way to tidy up an unintended culrly “do.” Albeit, in the 70s I opted to style my hair into a white-chick puffball that, in retrospect, was cool at the time but extremely unflattering.
After two bad hair days in Jaco Beach, Costa Rica, I declared war on my hair and dragged Li on a mission to find an open salon. This was a few years back, when I first realized that I did not want to sail through life without mastering a foreign language, and began my quest to learn Spanish. Unfortunately, I was not very far along in the process when I tried to explain to the lonely stylist in the tiny, hidden-alley salon how I wanted my hair cut short. Really short. In the land of long, curly, dark locks, my request is likely unheard of. Blank stare. Head shake. No comprender.
Li, although much better at masquerading fluent Spanish, also attempted . And failed. A young man summoned from the alley assisted in solving my extreme (but far from frantic) hair crisis. “What he said,” I thought as he gave the sweet, smiling young woman with scissors detailed instructions – in words I could not understand. Alas, the snipping began. In the end, I sported the best – and most budget-friendly – short haircut of my life. We extended the magic “gracias” word to our rescue duo and sauntered out of the quaint little alley with high-fives and a contagious case of the girly giggles.
Fast forward to this spring’s escape to Mexico. My hair loved the dry heat of Cabo San Lucas, and I was happy as a clam in the water. My normal soft curls refrained from rebelling against my quick, daily routine.
However, Cabo felt a bit like Los Angeles to me, so I am now committed to seek out bad-hair venues for the future. I think, maybe, just maybe, it’s time to embrace my soft, tight natural curls and let them grow. If – and that’s a big “IF” – I can stand looking like Shirley Temple as the curls gain some little ringlet traction!
I’m trying to recall how bad my hair behaved in London. Perhaps it’s time for a rewind?
I should just package and sell this for curly travelers…
Complete hair rescue kit for chicks:
A wide knit headband (or two).
Pretty, blingy bobby pins.
Pony tail elastics, should you have enough hair.
Hat that makes you feel amazingly cute.
Frizz control gel, putty, or heavy leave-in conditioner.
Travel –sized curling iron.
Miniature straightening iron. (Trust me – Don’t bother with this if humidity is on the radar.)
And for you men who worry about having a bad hair day…
Simple hair rescue kit for dudes: