Headrushed in Hongdae

Andrea and I went to "Headrush," a hairdresser's in Hongdae. Last week I did an editing/writing bit for a new as of now not yet published magazine "Napkin" our friend CD is co-publishing. He's also the marketing manager for "Headrush" - that's how I ended up with a voucher for a complete hair makeover there. It was my payment, sort of, although I did it as a favour to him. He's so cute, no one can say no to him.

Johnny, the colourist, and Min, "the cutter," knew exactly what they were doing. Their claim to "have been educated at Tony & Guy and Vidal Sassoon in London" seems more than likely to be true. In the past, although I spent indecent amounts of money on hair styling in Korea (at both branches of Tony & Guy, plus a place in the Intercontinental hotel, plus a place in Itaewon) I've never been happy with my dos. Last New Year's (2oo5) I came out of a Tony and Guy looking like Rod Stewart - and crying. Trust me, sugars, if you could have seen me you would not have thought me sexy.
I decided that whatever the Headrushers do to my head, they could not possibly do any worse than the others.
It was good of me to stick out my neck for the guys there. I wanted to get rid of the blonder than blonde hair ends and mousey roots. My hair grows too fast, and within 2 weeks of a visit to a salon, the root-ends contrast, assisted with my unruly wavy-curly hair, starts making me look ill-groomed and tired. Johnny got the colour I wanted - it looks a lot like the colour I got after I had lost my early childhood blondeness. Min shaped it beautifully performing magic with his scissors, cutting this way and that. There were also two young apprentices who did their best in moisturizing, washing, conditioning, blowdrying, combing, brushing.... Four pairs of beautiful male hands fighting one messy female head! How could I have possibly won? I lost! I most gloriously did. And here's the proof, in the photograph. This is what I look like several hours later, after walking windy smoggy streets of Seoul and surviving a long sweaty overcrowded bus ride home from Hongdae.
O.K., O.K, I admit, the model is a bit enhanced: I did change into a girly fuscia T-shirt and I did smear my lips in redder- than- red red. I made a couple of pictures for Andrea who had to leave early and didn't get to see my "after" self. She insisted. I promised. Which is just as well, being the narcisus that I am. So, my dear 4 readers on 4 continents (it is 4 now with Clare in South Africa, providing she finds internet access on her aunt's game reserve and the time to read my ramblings amidst all that animal coralling she's probably doing) what do you think?