There is a sentence that says, "Good, cheap, fast, pick two." The point is, anything worth it is not quick and cheap, I've heard it for the first time When I was planning my wedding, and I was constantly thinking about it, every wedding decision was an example of this misery.When I think of the pick-two dilemma, far from wedding stress, I mostly think of Hair [19459006[GreatHair]
I mean great hair, to put it bluntly and affluently, I mean Jennifer Aniston in a campaign by Smartwater / Emirates / Aveeno, hair that's always perfectly cut, perfectly dyed, perfectly styled, shiny and fluent and completely devoid of tangles, so that you can pass your unkempt white collar fingers without catching a manicured nail.
The wealthy hair that I can covet in many forms Meghan Markle and Kate Middleton lend the full-bodied, shiny hair of fairy tales. Jameela Jamil, Dakota Johnson and Zooey Deschanel have the kind of bizarre strokes that would inspire a haircut that I'll soon regret. Priyanka Chopra Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway all have different hair, but they all have one thing in common: their hair looks financially. It's the hair of shampoo ads and superhero franchises and Met Gala. Earning money with hair makes Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen's hair look bohemian instead of being neglected. That's why Gigi Hadid's messy bun can also be accompanied by couture.
These models with coins, however, have one thing in common: they represent the Western, white ideal of beauty. This is certainly not the only kind of hair that projects wealth, but it is a dominant type, and the type I associate with as a white woman. The company stigmatises hair that does not fit into this category, which can be extremely harmful to people and color communities. I realize that my and the other "good hair" obsession only reinforce this standard, and my complicated relationship with affluent hair representations probably does not come close to how many black women feel for this "ideal."
Wealthy hair has a price, and I do not have the means to afford such a price.
Even though it feels unreachable – gorgeous hair that shimmers like a delusion in the distance – I long for the wealthy. Hair look, because I did not grow up with a lot of fortune myself.
When I was growing up, I did not think about money except how many weeks of leave I needed to afford the Spice Girls Band. Likewise, I did not know that my family had less money than my friends' families – except that we had different things. They had air conditioning and we had huge fans in each window that turned our home into a big, loud wind tunnel. When I slept in the homes of friends, I wonder about the luxury of sleeping under comforters in the middle of summer. But it was air conditioning, not money. It would go on, summer holidays and SAT tutors, but no money. I did not yet understand that things that had or did not have a direct correlation with money.
This does not mean that I have become poor. I have never longed for a warm bed, bath or meal. My family was a working class – only in the lower income class of our working class, and I felt like an outsider.
I was out of affluent hair.
Several factors converged to trigger my obsession with wealthy-looking hair.
My friends got highlights from hairdressers whose names they knew. "I'm going to Theresa on Thursday after school," they tell me. I envied her for her familiarity with her hairdressers. I always went to the Hair Cuttery, where I sat down on the next available chair. The hairdressers did not know me or me. I also envied the highlights of my friends. I was only allowed to use Boxed Dye; The dimensions of carefully applied highlights eluded me. I really envied everything: her routines and her hair. Nevertheless, I was not aware that this is related to the money.
In college, I became friends with girls from affluent suburbs. They drank only certain brands of water bottles, and their peculiarity amazed me as much as their hair – a dancing major with a head made of the brightest twisted hair and a sister of the Sisterhood with outbursts who had to somehow endure during their worst hangover. At this point, I began to realize that the hair actually reflects their socioeconomic status. It was also the beginning of the Great Recession, and my economics, history and political science teachers have described in detail the privileges that prosperity offers. They taught me about dividends and taxes and the wealth of the generations, while I also learned about the prosperity difference through the prosperous heads of my affluent friends.
At the same time Gossip Girl consolidated the wealth gap in pop culture. The show was followed by Serena van der Woodsen (Blake Lively) and Blair Waldorf (19459028) (Leighton Meester), who were born with trust funds and corresponding hair heads. The silky, flaky hair of Serena and Blair, the latter of whom often interspersed her hairstyles with designer headbands, was juxtaposed with Brooklynite women Jenny Humphrey (Taylor Momsen), who sewed on the luxurious dresses she wore more affluent classmates. Jenny's hair was unnaturally blond and showed a rotation of obvious hair extensions, flabby ends and choppy bangs leading to publications asking if was the worst hair on television .
It's no secret that perfect hair is a hallmark of those who can afford it. When the story of Anna Delvey broke, the woman claiming she was a German heir just to denounce New York's elite out of hundreds of thousands of dollars, many quickly pointed out that Delvey's hair was a traitor to that she was not as rich as she claimed. In every picture in which Delvey attends an exclusive event, her hair does not shine, the ends are dead and the color is dull. It is not the hair of a wealthy celebrity.
I wanted the hair type that seemed to open doors. I wanted the kind of hair that would make people believe I grew up in a house with air conditioning too.
I do not have the kind of money it takes to reach wealthy social hair by the typical expensive means that my student loans and health insurance bills have priority over travel to the salons.
Good, cheap, fast. Pick two.
If I had such hair, it would have to be cheap, so I went on a slow but affordable journey to better hair.
I have bought The suggestions of the beauty editor: Microfibre towels, satin pillowcases, wet hairbrushes, expensive shampoos and conditioners, which are designated at TJ Maxx. I foamed the hair coconut oil as a form of time-out treatment. I opted for clumsy blow-drying my hair instead of going to the Dry Bar. I get decorations in salons by Groupon or in schools where students cut hair.
I dye my hair red with henna, which gives me a vivid but natural color. It's an expensive-looking shadow that I do not pay with my money, but rather with my time. The henna process takes somewhere north of four hours. During this time, I wear a plastic film helmet to seal the paint. It's all a clever game to get wealthy hair for the least amount of money I can possibly spend.
My affluent hair obsession, though inspired by a childhood chip on my shoulder, has taught me important lessons about wealth, privilege, and arbitrary beauty standards. It taught me to look at the world with a more critical lens and to recognize access gaps. Flawless-looking skin, white teeth, long eyelashes and stronger eyebrows are often bought by those who can afford the price. Similarly, those who have enough money can afford trained stylists to cut the split ends off their hair and beam them as if the sun were always shining on them.
I know that behind wealthy hair is no deep or real value the importance of society and I bet on it. Beyond its beauty, it is not that is special. it's just expensive As with Ugg Boots or Abercrombie Jeans, beautiful hair is another monetary measure that can be used to measure their socioeconomic status. In other areas of my life, I have no desire to obtain symbols of wealth. I am very satisfied with my Kia Sportage, thanks. Nevertheless, I can not stop making rich hair cheap, because, mistaken as it may seem, I am the epitome of the assumption that
rich-looking hair is my ticket, as if I were finally inside. But even if it makes others think I've never been outside, it's always a sham. Occasionally, my pursuit of wealthy hair may feel like I'm playing a charade or even being a cheater. When my boss asked me if I was going to marry my father's country club, I laughed aloud because he had no idea that my world was about the compromise between good, cheap and fast. At the same time, I was addicted to having someone made me the type of girl whose father belongs to a country club. I bet he thinks I do not think twice about sleeping under a blanket in mid-August.