My first two and a half years of college was the peak of my experiment with hair color. It started out with a pink side bang. Next thing I knew, I’d bleached my entire head and painted every strand with every color under the sun. Purple, blue, turquoise, orange, platinum blonde, green, pink and purple ombre, all of them in pastel, you name it. I’ve tried them all. In the span of these two and a half years my hair style also evolved from a wild bust-length mess with no shape to a long scene hair to a side mohawk to a short side mohawk to a shoulder-length bob… Until I finally settle with a pink jaw-length straight bob at the end of my third year in college.
Ever since then, it has become a part of my identifier. Starting from the day I got back to school after spring break, I’m the girl with the pink hair.
People comment on my hair wherever I go. I’m now used to people shouting compliments on my hair even when I’m walking around my neighborhood or college (where people see me literally everyday). A pair of South African girls I encountered on one of the alleys in Barcelona asked me to take a selfie with them. A child once touched my hair in the train and said ‘your hair looks like cotton candy’, in which my friend Parrot replied ‘yeah, cotton candy made of acid’. When I went to London fashion week for my assignment, I was swarmed with those fashion photographers who wanted to photograph my hair and include it in their ‘Street Snap’ posts. Moon loved to touch my hair, the first thing she always did when she saw me was touching my hair. Teachers who just couldn’t remember my name started calling me ‘hey pink hair’ instead. From then until my graduation, I was always bombarded by hair-dyeing related questions from friends and acquaintances, there were even some requests to do their hair (which I actually did). My lovers loved playing with it, at one point Blue kept calling me Salmon because my strands always turned into peachy salmon when the pink dye faded. When I worked as life drawing model, the audiences often focused on drawing my hair and forgetting the rest. It is also one of the factors that led me to the longterm muse-artist relationship with my beloved Linseed.
When there were compliments, there were nasty remarks too. Something like ‘didn’t your hair get super damaged from all the chemicals though?’ and ‘but your hair looks so dry now’ to ‘wow you’re so ballsy to do something like that, I’d never ever do something like that to my hair’ and ‘geez your confidence level is waaay up there, isn’t it?’. But hey, a little rain on my parade won’t hurt. I love rain anyway.
So now, four years with this hair and I don’t think I’ll change anytime soon.