BLONDE AMBITION
Almost half of all salon appointments in the UK are made by those seeking golden locks. Grace Timothy reflects on the shade’s allure
One writer on why she loves lighter locks
Idon’t just love being blonde, I am blonde. It’s part of my personality, like being impatient or neurotic; only this is a facet I fully embrace. And, after two decades as a not-so-natural blonde, I can tell you: there’s never been a better time to go golden. Advances in bleaching, at-home kits and smart shampoos have made it kinder, quicker and more successful. According to a recent L’oréal study*, of the 60% of women who have had in-salon colour, 47% chose blonde; a testament to the number of women seeking a flaxen ’do. But why do us blondes identify so uniquely with our hair? How is it that a single colour can stir up so many visceral reactions, stereotypes and even its own genre of jokes?
I was seven when I became aware of the power of blonde. My mum was getting ready for my father’s 1950s-themed birthday party and I watched as she bent over to ease a platinum wig over her auburn hair. As she rose, flipping the luminous waves over her shoulders, I caught my breath: she was transformed. I held her hand as she greeted guests, staring up at the strands of sparkly hair. ‘It really suits you!’ everyone was saying, and her reply was suitably enigmatic to a seven-year-old girl: ‘Well, blondes do have more fun!’ And, sure enough, there she was, twirling around the dancefloor, laughing.
I don’t recall my first kiss in as much detail as my first highlights at 15; the sting of the scent and the way the colour crept out as my hair dried. I’ve been blonde ever since, except for a brief brunette moment at 28; I’d left my job to go freelance and wanted to shake things up. My hairdresser talked me into a mahogany shade and
I remember stopping a few steps outside the salon and finding my reflection unrecognisable in a shop window. I began flailing
around new people, blurting out, ‘I used to be blonde,’ by way of an introduction. Until that point, I had never considered my hair important in making an impression, but still, I had lost confidence and realised just how entrenched blonde hair was in my identity. Within four months, I was back on the highlights.
This past year, it just wasn’t possible to see my hairdresser every six to eight weeks. But while
I might have seven inches of another colour at the roots, the lengths are still resolutely blonde; maybe even more so in stark contrast to my crown, a marker of time passed largely in isolation. I’m hopeful though, that the first visit I manage (there’s a waiting list for appointments) will see my hairdresser wave the wand that will make me feel like the ‘old me’, the pre-pandemic version of myself, without all the frustration and fear.
‘There aren’t many beauty treatments that give you as powerful an emotional high as having your highlights done,’ says Josh Wood, the colourist responsible for many famous blondes. ‘The more you go blonde, the more you want it,’ says another patron saint of blondes, Nicola Clarke, who is creative director of John Frieda salons, as well as the colourist for the Kates/cates (Moss, Winslet, Blanchett), and many others besides. ‘Naturally, your eye is drawn to light objects in a room, so maybe it’s just that blondes stand out,’ she adds. It also explains why balayage is so popular – it’s a way to buy into blonde without too much commitment (or cost).
According to science, it’s all down to sex, of course. Research by psychologists Viren Swami and Seishin Barrett concluded that blondes are perceived by men as being needier and, therefore, more approachable than redheads and brunettes. And since light hair generally darkens with age, it’s thought to be a marker of youth, which is a fertility flag to potential mates.
Growing up, the messaging I received came through the yellow gold of Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, apparently given that particular shade of Disney hair because of its long-held connotations of innocence (remember, too, Hitchcock’s platinum leading ladies: women you’d never suspect of foul play). As I got older, innocence was definitely no longer the common trait in my favourite blondes: Michelle Pfeiffer, Kim Wilde, Debbie Harry, Dolly Parton and Madonna. Not innocent, not compliant and certainly not dumb (imagine telling Madonna she was dumb!), but strong, confident women.
This summer, I’m sure I’ll be found sitting still for three hours with a head of bleach-filled foils, even though it is, frankly, for a short-lived high: the root-free look that lasts a minute; the volume afforded by the bleach that falls flat after a few weeks; the freshness that fades as fast as that of a white T-shirt; the fact my hair could break under the strain of all that bleach. Going blonde feels risky, it’s expensive, it’ll never shine like a brunette’s hair and, at times, it feels like people don’t take you seriously. But when it’s good, it’s bright and buoyant. Plus, it’s versatile; blonde hair is a porous blank canvas you can customise with different toners, a hint of pink or a grey gloss. That’s why I’ll be signing up for more; not because of society’s opinions, but because of the endless possibilities it affords, given the right hairdresser and a ton of that trusty hydrogen peroxide.
I don’t recall my first kiss in as much detail as my first highlights