Right, I’m mega-busy at the moment, so this is going to be brief. But I reckon this photo needs sharing. It is a quote by my favourite philosopher, Michel de Montaigne, taken from the book When I Am Playing with My Cat, How Do I Know She is Not Playing with Me? by Saul Frampton . It doesn’t really need any more elaboration other than a massive “TRUE!”.

Have a great weekend.

BBxx

Image via electron_wind's Flickr

Remember hair mascara? That stuff was a joke. Just like Buffalo platform trainers and Kappa trackies, hair mascara is an unfortunate reminder of the 90s fashion follies that we shouldn’t have to revisit.

The stuff clumped hair together and cracked, leaving crumbly trails of colour on shoulders. And it looked rubbish – a bit like your hair had been dangled in a dish of gross, thick and colourful soup and left to dry.

The idea of putting eyeshadow in your hair sounds scarily like hair mascara, but let me reassure you that it really works. I know, because I tried it.

Pastel hair is a major trend at the moment. It all began with Bleach in London. They specialise in grungy and girly hair, inspired by Nirvana’s debut album. The look is a mixture of punk and high fashion. The sweetness of the pastels tones is counteracted by a frizzed out and an almost chalky hair texture.

There are plenty of ways to achieve the look using permanent and semi-permanent colours on blonde hair. Salons like Wolverhampton’s Broken Butterfly specialise in creative colours (they even paint hair with leopard spots – so freakin’ cool). You can also go the DIY route with Fudge Paintbox colours or Directions hair dyes which can be mixed with a toner or conditioner to get the shade subtly soft.

Alas, not all of us have jobs that welcome such expressions of individuality. There’s also the fact that it is easy to get bored of a novelty hair colour. Dyes and salon visits don’t come cheap. Let’s not even start on cleaning up the splodges of colour from the bathtub or the sorry state of the towels post dye job.

That’s why wash out colours are great: maximum colour impact, minimum commitment and collateral damage. I’d first read about colouring hair using pigment powders on Betty. Australian hair maestro, Kevin Murphy discovered the technique whilst travelling in India. He was inspired to create Colour Bug - pots of powdered colour, designed specifically to be used on hair. They cost  £12.95 and are available direct from Kevin Murphy’s UK site.

Being the cheapskate that I am, I soon realised that “pigment powder” is a fancy name for eyeshadow. I’ve got loads of that stuff, especially old palettes full of frosted blues, purples, pinks and silvers. I raided my make up bag, selected a shade and set about smushing it up with the end of a teaspoon. I tipped the resulting colourful rubble into an egg cup and set about smearing it on to my hair.

My ancient eyeshadow palette

Grinding the powder in an eggcup

I have two blonde flashes at the front of my hair, they peak out under my brown layers and create a cool halo effect. I decided to only apply the colour to the ends of my hair, recreating the popular “dip dye” or “ombre” look. I picked a dark shimmering purple, I spooned a small amount of powder onto the palm of my left hand, swirled it about with my finger, then loaded up my right index finger with colour. I ran it over the surface of the hair, taking care not to separate the hair too much.

Tutorials I’ve since read and watched online also suggest twisting the hair whilst applying the colour.

The colour went on much lighter than it appeared in the palette, it was more a pinky plum than a lilac. It took on a gorgeous iridescent quality once on my hair. I was really impressed with the end results and even more impressed with the fact that it cost me absolutely nothing. I’m not sure it would work on darker hair, though it would certainly add a candy floss texture and lustre.

The colour up close

A disclaimer: There a slight chance that it’ll take a couple of washes to fully remove the colour, but after sleeping with the colour in it has faded to a barely noticeable blush. I’ve also read warnings about attempting to apply pigments to wet/damp hair – apparently, the moisture mixes with the pigment to create a dye. This brilliant tutorial on hair chalking by The Beauty Department* also warns that powders can dry hair out, especially if it is bleached.

Me and my newly pastel coloured hair

I still plan to try out the Kevin Murphy Colour Bug, as I’m sure it will be far less messy and easier to apply than ground up eyeshadow – I’ll post about it soon. I’m also eager to experiment with chalk pastels, especially as they offer way more colour options.

In the meantime, I’m going to high five myself repeatedly for my creativity, ingenuity and AMAZING hair

BBxx

*Cheers to Fran Bedford for sending me a link to this

This is going to be cheesy. I know it is. But I’m getting into a habit of posting cheesy motivational stuff on Friday afternoons and I’m enjoying it. If you can’t take the fromage get out of my darling artisanal fromagerie.   This week I’m feeling inspired by Zooey Deschanel. Her hair has inspired me for years, as have her really cute tea dresses and whimsical accessories. She & Him – Volume 1 is one of my all-time favourite records and Hello Giggles is one of my favourite blogs. I don’t really get New Girl but, hey, a lady can’t please everyone all of the time.   I was faffing about on Pinterest when I came across this wonderful quote from Zooey:   “Don’t let someone steal your tenderness. Don’t allow the coldness and fear of others to tarnish your perfectly vulnerable beating heart. Nothing is more powerful than allowing yourself to truly be affected by things. Whether it’s a song, a stranger, a mountain, a rain drop, a tea kettle, an article, a sentence, a footstep…feel it all – look around you. All of this is for you. Take it and have gratitude. Give it and feel love.”   It summed up a problem I’ve been having lately. I’ve allowed other people’s negativity, anger and issues to rub off on me. I’ve gotten into a habit of not letting myself be happy and always seeking the problems in things. There’s too much crap, cynicism and snark in this world. So much that it feels somehow wrong and weak to talk of tenderness. Well, I’m done with it. I’ll let Barbra say the rest:   Here’s to less of the eye rolling and more of the smiling.   BBxx  

I spent last week in the sunny Greek resort town of Navpaktos. I say resort, but it is unlikely that you could walk into Thomas Cook and book a week all-inclusive there. It is a Greek resort for Greek people. There wasn’t a single fishbowl cocktail or faded laminated menu with pictures in sight.   Instead it was all chic coffee bars with portside pavement tables and gallons of iced espresso sipped whilst wearing HUGE sunglasses.   If you like your holiday destinations to be sunny, historical and full of good food, then I suggest you jump on the next flight to Araxos Patras (the nearest airport, there are no direct transfers to Navpaktos which all adds to the “off the beaten track” allure).   The town is situated on the Gulf of Corinth, 45 minutes from Greece’s third largest city, Patras. The journey from Patras involves a breathtaking drive over the Rio-Antirrio bridge, the world’s longest multi-span cable-stayed bridge. You can see the Peloponnese on the opposite side –  a fact I have included merely because it so much fun saying the word Peloponnese.   The town is dominated by a Venetian castle, built in five tiers, from the port to the mountainside. Terracotta roofs and white walls characterise the old town, which is in the process of seeking UNESCO World Heritage Site status.   We spent a day exploring Delphi, which was a 1.5hour drive along the coast. I loved hearing the story of the Oracle Pythia, who spent most of the time off her head on gas seeping from the volcanic ground and muttering nonsense to ancient Greek warriors.   Right now, it is impossible to talk about Greece without talking politics. My Mom’s parting words to me before leaving for the airport were “don’t get stuck in[.....]

  An infographic of my TV viewing habits would look something like this:     A swift analysis of the data reveals that I watch a lot of cooking shows. I am also one of the rare people who actually ends up cooking recipes from cooking shows. Sometimes it works, other times it ends in disaster.   My latest TV cookery crush is BBC Two’s Two Greedy Italians. It combines a lot of my favourite things: 1) Food 2) Italy 3) Gentle humour 4) Sweeping footage of beautiful places   Chefs Antonio Carluccio and Gennaro Contaldo are on a tour of their beloved homeland. They track down places they remember from childhood and attempt to get an idea of the “new Italy”.   I am a sucker for the playful and eccentric hosts, their warmth and friendship really comes through on screen. They are also both partly responsible for changing the way we eat here in the UK. Carluccio and Contaldo both mentored a young Jamie Oliver who, love him or hate him, has certainly transformed our tea times.   Last week’s episode featured a recipe for an Orange Rice Cake. Now, I don’t know about you, but the name “rice cake” makes me think of those vile puffy diet crackers that no amount of light cream cheese can make palatable. The Two Greedy Italians’ version was as far away from diet food as can be imagined.   Think of an orange infused rice pudding, baked until firm. I tried the recipe from the BBC website out this afternoon and the results are pictured below. I’ve also given my take on the recipe, because I found that the BBC version needed a little tweaking in practice.   BBxx     Ingredients: 1.7 litres/3 pints whole milk 1 generous tsp Madagascan[.....]

  Sometimes, a lady just has to throw caution to the wind and embrace the inspirational power ballad.   This song most definitely is big and it sure is clever.     No one can change you life except for you, don’t ever let anyone step all over you.   Yes, quite right. Thank you, early nineties pop stars, you’ve just hit the nail on the head. All whilst wearing high-waisted taper-leg jeans and perching precariously on a mountain ledge.   Have a great weekend!   BBxx  

  “A woman with a dirty mouth has an empty head.”   That’s what my Granddad once told me, probably after I had referred to something as a “bit crap”. His wisdom was somewhat undermined by his own wife’s potty mouthed antics. Every time he asked the question “what’s for tea?”, my Nan would curtly reply “what do you bloody think? Shit with egg on”.   Beautiful and hilarious; the sight of a petite elderly lady in her apron, unleashing language and mental imagery utterly at odds with her appearance and nature. Granddad didn’t push his puritanical language agenda much further with her. She’d have probably told him to piss off.   What is outlined above sums up my own confused attitudes towards swearing. I was a late bloomer when it comes to cursing, not discovering the fine art until I hit the ripe old age of nine. I recall an encounter with a local “eccentric” at the park. “Mad Donald”, as the neighbourhood kids kindly called him, was renowned for his rambling tirades of choice words. He also used to stick his fingers up at pigeons and rubbish bins. After gawping at this unfortunate soul as I hung from the monkey bars, I peddled my bike home and told my Mom of all the strange words he had spoken.   She wasn’t impressed. Nor was she impressed when I started dancing around the living room giving the two finger salute to the lampshade. The fact that I had no idea what it meant was by-the-by, I was told that any further uses of such words or gestures would lead to my mouth being washed out with soap and water.   Considering I am a huge fan of both cherry lips and parma violets,  this didn’t sound like that big[.....]