We all have our quests in life. Some seek a knight in shining armour. Others, the perfect pair of jeans. Me? I’m forever in search of the perfect blow-dry. The one where I get my hair into a sleek, frizz-free style that’s more akin to something sported by a model in the pages of Vogue than by Bananarama circa 1980.
I want to achieve this glossy perfection in as little time, and with as little stress, as possible – which is not as easy as it sounds when visiting a hairdresser. Every girl knows it can go so right. And so wrong.
I want soft, smooth curls without having my locks smeared in handfuls of greasy product or singed to death by an amateur. I want the shampooist to scrub every inch of my scalp – and I mean scrub. When it comes to the rinse, I want it rinsed. I don’t want to have to make idle, neck-breaking, throat-strangling chit-chat during the operation.
And when it gets to the hair-drying part, I want a heavy, confident hand: someone who drives a hair brush through my hair with the commitment and expertise of Lewis Hamilton. Any sign of limpness within the first three minutes of sitting down and I’m fighting back the desire to cry. I’m being quite serious.
My quest, thankfully, is over; for I have found my blow-dry utopia. In London, it is Josh Wood Atelier; ( www.joshwoodcolour.com ) everyone here knows what they’re doing. In LA, it is Drybar ( www.thedrybar.com ). Now a successful chain across the USA, this place gets everything right.