Mirror, mirror on the wall…
My plans started small. Just a simple, pared-back wedding, a special, intimate day to share with those we love the most. But then – as these things tend to do – the plans changed. After all, haven’t we just lived through a joyless pandemic? Don’t we all deserve a good old knees-up? And don’t I – raised on a diet of 40s starlets, 60s sirens, basically born with a ‘MY WEDDING!!’ Pinterest board on the go – deserve a special day? After all, how many times does a girl get married – two, three, tops?! Problem is, due to a number of factors (age, kids, did I mention COVID?), I’ve been feeling a long way from my glamorous best for a long time, even finding it hard to imagine there was a road back. But rather than wallow, I decided it was time to call in the big guns.
I’ve long waxed lyrical about Daxita when it comes to lashes, microblading and, more recently, semi permanent make up like her ‘lip blush’ – but she really and truly is the best in the business. I once made the mistake of getting someone other than Daxita to apply semi-permanent lashes, reasoning that lashes were lashes. I was wrong. She is quite simply an artist; yes, she’ll take guidance as to what you want (in my case, the perfect lashes to set off a 60s-style cat’s eye look), but her expert eye tailors the application to the shape of your face, brows and eyes, somehow ensuring even the most dramatic vibe remains in balance, and steering well clear of veering into drag. Daxita applied a full set of Russian lashes and the difference it made to my face was astonishing; a Bambi eyed, well rested A-List version of the person I’d become since my last visit to Daxita, prompting me to book my next appointment instantly and resolving to keep this up on the regular.
With the spring well and truly back in my step, I was ready to take on the next challenge: my hair. I had set myself two fairly (read: ridiculously) ambitious role models for the big day: Liz Taylor, for her tumbling, coiffed, Burton-era tresses, and Dolly Parton, for her ethos “the higher the hair, the closer to God”. In short, I needed to go BIG. I felt somewhat intimidated as I walked into Inanch London, the salon of Inanch Emir, hairdressing pioneer (she invented Gold Class extensions, that are simply best in class), and, by the look of their social media, the go-to place for London’s most chic and beautiful. Would me and my frizzy, neglected mop feel out of place? Within a minute of meeting Inanch, my fears were allayed on all fronts; not only is she the most down-to-earth, welcoming hairdressing pioneer I’ve ever met, she assured me that my 60s bouncing bouffant dreams were incredibly easy to achieve with (whisper it) hairpieces. After a consultation, then a trim and colour the week before the wedding, she came to me on the big day with everything fully prepared, and – Oh. My. Goodness. The second those hairpieces went in, I felt, without exaggeration, like a different person. I felt – well, not quite like Liz Taylor, but like the bride I had always (however secretly) wanted to be. Truly, the stuff that dreams are made of.