USA TODAY International Edition
A makeover from Jennifer Aniston’s colorist
‘ Paper- thin highlights’ can be key to new look
On a dreary day en route to D. C.’ s Roche Salon, I try to dodge raindrops as not to exacerbate my “before” photo with frizz. Jennifer Aniston’s colorist of more than two decades, Michael Canalé, is going to give me the Aniston- esque makeover I first yearned for as a teen, proving good things do come to those who wait — like Grubhub or a Frank Ocean album.
I shrink when I see him — the man who co- created “The Rachel” with stylist Chris McMillan — because I have balayage that hasn’t been tended to in months and ends that could bring home gold medals with their splits. Naturally, when I ask the hair veteran about trends, he advises that my coloring technique is “being eased out.”
“Right now you have more of a sun- drenched look,” Canalé says of my hair, which gradually gets brighter at the ends. “We’re gonna give it a sun- kissed look where it connects subtly into this look so it looks like it was done naturally by the sun over time.”
He begins the process with what he refers to as “paper- thin highlights” connecting my roots to my beige and copper ends, coloring very small sections using mild bleach and a gold tone. When choosing shades, he takes into account a client’s natural hair hue — “God usually gives you the right color” — as well as eye shade. “We do Jen sandy because of her lighter eye color,” Canalé says, referring to Aniston. “You’d be more golden because of the gold in your eye.”
He speedily paints slim sections along my part and hairline, including what he calls a “glamorous streak,” bright pieces that frame either side of my face. After about 17 minutes I’m ready for the dryer. No wonder Canalé and his swift assembly line can see 20 to 40 clients per day.
After processing under a dryer, I’m taken to the sink where Canalé paints a mild bleach along my hairline. The bleach wash is the technique “Jen loves most,” he explains, as it “softens the edge around her face so when she pulls it back, it’s not quite so dark.” The solution is washed off after precisely one minute.
Next, my hair receives a color bath, a correctional technique he rarely shares made just for Jen — I can call her that too, right? — that he says blends the color and “takes the overactive shine out.”
“It will still be shiny, but it will have that natural blend,” he promises. “It will just be a softer connection.”
Lastly, my hair is treated with a light golden gloss to help seal in the color and I’m given a trim by a fabulously personable stylist named James P. Williams. Unlike Jen, who Canalé assures is an “amazing blow dryer,” I let Williams blow my hair out. Once he secures a replica of Aniston’s signature side- sweep with spray, he issues a playfully stern warning not to touch my do. Out of his chair, I nervously survey the room for his presence, defying his orders. My name is Erin and I am a compulsive hair- toucher.
As I linger over my before and after photos — which I do for too long thanks to the salon’s freestanding selfie light — I notice Canalé’s technique illuminates my eyes more than the balayage I’m accustomed to. This pleases me but I’m also anticipating more upkeep than I’m used to.
The positive reactions from coworkers and my mom, who gushes that I “look so gorgeous,” make me contemplate reworking my budget to see if I can maintain the brighter look, which will require more salon visits and costs $ 510 ( cut included). Even if it’s just once, getting the Jen treatment was enough to make my day, and yes, even my year.