Personal blahdiblah...

Hi guys,

Time goes on: tick tock in Amsterdam.

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It's getting more autumny so let's share something personal. I'm kind of having a 'I remembered to forget' mode about my hair during this summer: I've gotten all into the curling/braiding/my-little-pony-colouring hair thingy. Sort of wanting to be Barbie because I felt I needed myself a proper Ken -> the buff guy with the plastic white smile. 

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Now I distanced myself from wanting a Ken and I gotten into flat shoes again: and polkadot socks. I don't think any Ken likes to see his Barbie in flats outside the gym where she has to work out to keep her hourglass figure, right?

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But I've been influenced by the Fashionweek and decided I needed a Céline top: ok, it's a sorta bargain from Yoox but still Céline.

New mistakes are better than old ones

How ya people, no time no blog. I've been in blog-limbo about whattowriteetcetc and was completely bored about my latest stream of bloggerness. I've met this sympathetic photographer guy/kid who had potential for my outfits and me, but in Shakespearean lingo: Alas. He was more abour drinking 'coffee' than making good photos. Don't we all know this type? At my age it's almost flattering, but not really...

Brings me to my sexiest bodypart, my brain. And my fantastic power to make comic mistakes and blog about it shamelessly.

Hence, new mistakes are better than old ones!

Let's discuss hair: I had this ongoing project going on to become the Celine blonde. Unlike the flamboyant Versace blonde, she is groomed and expensive without being prissy. Nor is she overcoiffed like some Gucci blondes can be. And she might have a day whe she resembles the post-grunginess of the contemporary Marant blondes, but not oftenly.

Celine blondiness

Hence I decided to go to a Spanish hairdresser to get to the levels above: I chose him on the premises that he was "quite fit" and looked like a good hairdresser too: I don't let beauty get to my head too much when it comes to my own beauty, teehee. But looks count when you're waiting in dye... (& waiting to dye, pun intended)

Somehow my Celine blonde plans ended up me having hair that is 'informal' instead of 'muy cara'. His fetish for the ombre look gotten my hair reshizzled into something that looks like Giselle lost in Costa Rican jungle for 6 months on a very good day, and on a bad day like a buried up Kurt Kobain.

The lesson about this story: know your language well before going to a foreign hairdresser, but new mistakes are always better than repeating and regretting older ones.