confessions of a cape cown freelancer: part 2

The Hair Situation

Spotting a freelancer is easy: just look for the individual nursing one cup of coffee for hours, and more frighteningly, the one with the bad, bad hair regrowth. We are all over and it’s not a pretty picture.

My freelance career can be measured by the inches of dark blonde hair making its way to my ends. Three months after leaving my full-time job, it was kinda cute, but kinda getting out of hand. By now, six months later, it’s a different situation altogether. 

One that begs the question: was she ever light blonde?

When I spend time with my blondie blonde friends, I can stare at their perfect highlights forever. While they share anecdotes of full-time agency life, I stare. 
And drool. And wonder if they’ll notice if I touch their non-roots. When they talk about going for hair appointments on Saturday mornings, I want to cry into my (one) latte. Don’t get me wrong – I was highlighting aplenty when I had the dough. My hair was blondie blonde, and my products were pricey priced. I thought I had it all: the hair, 
the job, and the lattes. Turns out: lattes are overpriced, jobs come and go, and no one in Cape Town really cares about anyone’s hair but their own.

Speaking of which, the mother city is crawling with freelancers and we can often be spotted in coffee shops, heads down in our laptops. Some are even as smart as to wear beanies, a trend I’m embracing with vigour.  No one has to know the hair situation going on underneath my beanie as I type away to meet a client’s deadline. And better yet – no client has to ever meet me (and my regrowth) as I can email said client from home, in my underwear, while eating a banana, wearing no makeup and picking at my split ends. To some, that might actually sound like having it all.

Along with the no-highlight policy, comes the no-money-for-a-cut policy. Hence my hair growing into an unruly carpet of curls longing for the sharp edge of a pair of scissors. One friends has suggested that I cut the ends myself (how, I ask? I have no clue with scissors) and another has invited me to her home for a free colour and cut, since she’s a hairdresser and all. I love her for it, but the maintenance issue would start all over again. What would I do three months down the line..? Six months..? 
A year..? No, no. Then I’d rather the roots do their thang and get it over with.

One positive is the fact that my hair has almost reached my ass by now, and although I hadn’t really planned it, I’m thinking of growing my locks into the ombre look for spring/summer 2013. Maybe by the time my hair reaches my legs, dark blondes will be the new black. Who knows.

~ Jana