Hair & Now (Part 2)

My day of hairstyling insanity has begun at 7.30 a.m.

My hairdresser, Calvin, picks me up from his salon (which coincidentally is 2 minutes away from my house) and takes me to the Wella headquarters, but not without taking a detour or two.

We arrive 45 minutes later at the office, and we are ushered in by Wella staff into this large room that looks like one huge salon. There are large posters displayed outside, showing the different themes of the season. My eyes fixate on the theme, 'Being Constructive'... I remember Calvin mentioning that to the agency rep during registration. Looks like I'm in for a pretty big makeover.

Calvin smothers my hair in bleach and puts this steam thingamajig over my head to hasten the process. I'ts going to take a while... and the magazines on my dressing table are in Chinese. Shucks.



My 30 minutes of looking like a pirated DVD seller.


After some blowdrying and shaping the basic cut, Calvin goes so crazy with the dyes that when I ask him what color he has put where, he has already forgotten. But he tells me he has used ash blonde, dark brown and a little bit of purple. My scalp burns like hell.

A heap of foil showing signs of life


Mmmm... Peroxide.


After painstakingly removing the foil, a hair wash, 2 treatments, blowdrying, hair ironing and a few more snips, I think my half-day ordeal is over. Calvin analyzes my hair in the mirror, picks up a bit of my new blonde fringe and asks, "You think I should put more purple here?"

I am going to disapprove out of sheer fatigue, then I look around at the other models.

Silver hair. Green hair. BLUE hair.

This means war.

---

My second day doesn't start at such an ambitious time, but what is expected to be a quick day ends up dragging on just as long as the day before.

Calvin picks me up again from his salon, this time together with his makeup artist Samantha.

On the way to Wella HQ again, I get constantly blinded by the glints of the metallic makeup box sitting next to me. On top of the box is a ghastly looking piece of animal print PVC.

"What's this, Calvin?"

"That? Oh, that's a tube. You'll be wearing that just in case we don't like the clothes that you will be given. It's very nice, yaaa?"

Erm, yaaa.

We make our way to the salon room again and knowing the drill, I resume yesterday's position and Samantha starts weaving her magic wands and brushes. But not before checking out my eyebrows and then whipping out her razor.

God, I HATE it when they do this. It takes months to grow them back!

I scream silently as she shaves off at least half of my big bushy beautiful caterpillars. They have been reduced to pencil-thin larvae worms and she's halfway drawing them in when the makeup supervisor comes over to her and says that all models under the Constructive theme are supposed to have artificially thick, dark brows. Which is what I naturally had to begin with. I pinch my thighs until they tremble.

Samantha stops working halfway and suggests that I go for my garment fitting first. I walk around a few corridors and enter a room with bustling fashion design students and their creations hanging from every knob, nook, chair and table. My clothes are black and white, pretty stiff, and sort of revealing. Think The Jetsons meets Barbarella.

My miniskirt consists of two small pieces of cloth held together by thick string weaving down the sides. The students are trying to lace me up but my undies are stubbornly flashing.

"Looks like we'll have to sew her in," says one of the students.

Note to self: NEVER lie about vital stats.

I robot-walk back to the salon room and as my shooting slot creeps nearer, Samantha hurriedly finishes my makeup as Calvin commences the hairstyling. He uses the hair iron and I wince as a combined result of a few strands getting yanked out and the smell of something burning.

My hair and makeup is finally completed, Calvin drapes some jewellery on me, and I am called over to the shooting studio for my turn. There are thin custom-designed foam boards overlapping each other to create a stylized concrete jungle, and I have to stand somewhere in between, strike a pose and look 'serious'. Crap. Serious is a territory I daren't tread. But the photographer is patient and encouraging, guiding me through the shoot.

"Place your arms closer to your body... Bend over a little... Look up... Tilt your head... Close your mouth... Look more serious... Yes!"

Four hours of preparation for a shoot that is over in less than ten minutes. Constructive indeed.

I don't have my Wella hairstyle anymore (the moment my boss saw me, her jaw crashed to the floor and Calvin got my color and cut adjusted the very next day) so for memory's sake, here is what I looked like for 2 days.





Remind you of anything?


If all goes to plan, the actual shoot will be published in June in a Singaporean Chinese magazine called 'Sisters'.

Thanks and big love to Calvin,

And Samantha.