This article at first seemed on InStyle.com. One balmy afternoon this previous summer season, I sat in a salon in TribeCa as a cheery British guy tested my straw-like blonde locks strand through strand, a procedure so exact that I used to be satisfied this should be what it will be love to get checked for lice. Filled with worry of the unknown, I anxiously waited for the analysis of— gasp —what sort of well being my hair was once in reality in. “You’ve got a lot of damage from dying it so blonde for so long, and your split ends are bad,” stated David Adams, grasp colorist and co-owner of Fourteenjay Salon. I cringed. He was once onto me and my grimy little death secret. “But we can fix this all, we’ve just got to get you on a long-term detox plan.” A detox plan for my hair? I used to be, these days of analysis, keeping a bottle of carrot and celery juice, so I used to be no stranger to a cleanse. But a detox for my head? Would that paintings? Could my commitment-phobic self take c...
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