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head not here

Wednesday, October 28, 2015




My hats are always covered in lint, despite the roller that lives next to my hat stand, suprisingly they stay sprinkled in Biba’s hair, my own hair as well as the dust that mysteriously collects like uninvited guests all over my apartment. I could get annoyed about it but not caring is far easier. In many ways, my head is up in the clouds, or more aptly, not here when it comes to caring about certain things. I watch in wonderment the time women put into their eyebrows or the colour of their hair or the contouring of their face. I had my hairdresser throw some henna into my back then bob about a year ago, the acrylic nails I got a few weeks ago are a chipped mess and my entire makeup routine takes about 1o minutes max.  I have forgotten to buy a hairdryer every week since I moved into my apartment. Now, I’m not saying there is anything wrong at all with caring about your eyebrows or whatever else. Not at all, in fact I fully intend on not forgetting these sorts of beauty routines.  Every week I optimistically include them in my ‘to do’ list, highlighted in capitals: YOUR EYEBROWS ARE A MESS, fix them, decorated with exclamation marks jumping around the words in hope I actually go get them sorted out. But I never do. Maybe one day.  I’ll banish the lint from my hats and the unkempt hairs above my eyes that have morphed my brows into bushes.  Maybe one day my hair won’t be mayhem.  One day ,maybe.  But you see, there are many things that suggest I am a high-maintenance sort of girl, like this blog or the fact I hate camping or that I am very picky when it comes to the shampoo I use. But I’m not, hilariously all of my past boyfriends have remarked on how unpredictably slubby I am, how 10 minutes notice is all I need to go for a drink and how at home, I so often look homeless. Wandering my apartment in clothes 10 years old that I wore at high school.  The most uptight of my  boyfriends actually asked me to spend more time on my appearance and less time working. I’ll give you one guess where he was from (Paris, yes, ofcourse he was Parisian). Now, I could say I’m an advocate of effortless beauty, but that would be a lie. I just forget and don’t make the time. Too busy reading or counting sit ups in the gym or wondering why all my photograph looks terrible to me or missing friends or sitting in my candle lit living room listening to Einaudi. The older I get the less time I dedicate to how I look. I’ll clumsily apply some makeup, haphazardly straighten my hair and then wander off to go act vague and weird. I actually think I look chic for about 5 minutes a day, every other minute is me looking like a disaster.


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