Okay, call me a princess, but I’m a little concerned. I have been not been blessed with hair that has a good attitude. Were my hair a person, it would be Chopper Reid (scary Australian criminal, cut his own ears off).
I have to daily beat it into submission with a variety of follicular apparati (hairdryers, straighteners, magical smelling potions in little jars) and should there be a whisp of moisture in the air? Well, the result ain’t pretty.
So for the coming Glastonbury Festival, I have constructed a careful arsenal of items to get me through it- read: cordless (yes- cordless! Can you believe it?) hair straighteners, and a rather wonderful concoction called dry shampoo. Will this kind of technology will be enough to tame my errant barnet? Check back Tuesday.