BLONDE AMBITION

Grace Timothy on why she’s a dye-hard fan of going for gold

don’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. Of all salon treatments, 40% are driven by blonde services;

testament to the number of women seeking the blonde advantage. 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? (After all, there’s no such thing as a brunette state of mind.)

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, my

breath caught. 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 dance floor, laughing.

I’d been fair as a baby and, despite the mousy brown mop I’d grown since, still thought of myself as blonde. I loved the flaxen gold of Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, and of biblical cherubs – virginal, innocent, pure as the driven snow. (That’s what Hitchcock sought for his leading ladies: someone you’d never suspect of foul play.) And as I grew up, various heroines nurtured my blonde obsession: Michelle Pfeiffer, Kim Wilde, Debbie Harry, Madonna. Not dumb (imagine telling Madonna she was dumb!), but strong, confident women.

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 brunette blip 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 myself unrecognisable in a shop window. I began flailing around people, preempting their (perceived) judgments by blurting out, ‘I used to be blonde.’ Until that point, I had never considered my hair important in making an impression. I lost confidence and realised just how entrenched blonde hair was in my identity. Within four months, I was back on the highlights and, as a blonde, I really do have more fun.

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, a fertility flag to potential mates. An expert in social psychology, Nicolas Guéguen PHD from the Université de Bretagne Sud in France points out that across the globe only around 2% of the population are naturally blonde, so it’s also a rarity. But perhaps a preference for blondes reflects the bigotry endemic in the West against women of colour; it could be an indicator of racial prejudice.

For me, being blonde isn’t a question of sexual appeal. It’s something I spend a fortune on just for me. ‘There aren’t many beauty treatments that give you as powerful an emotional high as having your highlights done,’ says Josh Wood, who is one of the UK’S leading colourists and responsible for many famous blondes. ‘Once you’ve been blonde, going brunette often doesn’t feel as good,’ says another patron saint of blondes, Nicola Clarke, who is creative director of John Frieda salons, as well as the colourist for all the Kates/cates (Moss, Winslet, Blanchett), and many others besides. ‘The more you go blonde, the more you want. It’s got a mystique that other hair colours don’t have. Naturally, your eye is drawn to light objects in a room, so maybe it’s just that blondes stand out.’ It explains why balayage is so popular – it’s a way to buy into blonde without too much commitment (or cost).

My addiction is fully blown and I’ll soon be enduring another three-hour session of bleach-filled foils, for what is, frankly, 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 it does from a white T-shirt. Meanwhile, I’m having to use a of conditioning masks to stop the bleach breaking my hair. It’s 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, like I’m having to overcome an Elle Woods stereotype.

But when it’s good, it’s sunny, cheerful and buoyant. Worth it. Plus, there’s always a new technique to try. You can customise it with different toners, add a hint of pink or a grey gloss and today, more than ever, there’s a myriad of products to make it easy and more pleasurable. So I for one won’t be giving up my addiction any time soon.

‘ONLY 2% OF PEOPLE ARE NATURALLY BLONDE’