I’m pretty much universally interested in anything that helps me be  lazy, so I’ve been intrigued by the concept of dry shampoo for a while now. Dry shampoo is supposed to allow you to skip a hair wash or two by absorbing oils and odors from your head by way of a secret formula (cornstarch and perfume); magically restoring your previous bedraggled mop to one of glory, shine and infamy. Sounds great – sign me up! Dry shampoo doesn’t seem to be as widely available in Canada as it is in other countries, so instead of opting for a $35 can of Salon Stuff I grabbed some drug store sprays while in the UK. I hadn’t had a chance to try it yet because I really like to wash my hair, but today all the planets are aligned for a bout of Epic Don’t Give a Fuck: I have to go outside, but I’m not going to go willingly. I don’t *want* to shower let alone put some goddamn clothes on, so I decided to go with “glamourous but lazy” and give the dry shampoo a whirl.

Now I have a giant head of clean-looking hair that smells appropriate, but is not entirely right: dry shampoo, it seems, is not for people with uncontrollable bed head. If you wake up in the morning and and are pretty much ready to take on the world, this stuff would be great. A quick spritz, run a brush through it, and you’re good to face the day and wrestle it into submission. Dry shampoo would be something you tuck into your expensive, cavernous purse (Birkin) to use on those days when you roll out of your Playboy billionaire boyfriend’s bed (holds 4 people) after a night of champagne, exclusive soirees and maître d’d canapés: spray it on, shake it out, then slide into last night’s heels (Louboutin) and LBD (D&G) before meeting your friends for lunch (ice chips and lemon slices). It is not for people who leave the house each morning looking as though it’s a Walk of Shame when really it’s just Tuesday; it’s for the Naturally Gorgeous. Those with Societal Value.

When I wake up, I look like a crazy cat lady. I don’t shower because I need to be cleaned; I shower because it beats my hair into submission. I can tame the Beast with a Billion Follicles when it’s wet and exhausted from a vigorous bout with traditional shampoo and conditioner, but I definitely cannot hop out of bed and look presentable without a great deal of external assistance (no matter how much cornstarch I spray onto myself). Dry shampoo is neat, but it doesn’t solve my main problem – tangled, sideways, cantankerous, confused hair. Nothing will fix that but a good shower.

Also, I could probably use a haircut.

Still, none of this is going to stop me from PRETENDING I’m fabulously wealthy and gorgeous – this is just my day off, is all. And Doc Martens never go out of style. And I have a lot of hats.

Let’s do this!

One thought on “spritz

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