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color hair spray.JPG Halloween is less than a week away, but I celebrated prematurely last weekend at my friends' annual All Hallows' Eve Bash.

Normally, I begin to look forward to this party as early as August, but in preparation for this year's festivities, I made an unwise decision that cast a black shadow on my entire night. I felt compelled to share my experience with all of my loyal Let's Talk Style followers. With my efforts, I hope to ensure that this unfortunate experience does not plague another living soul on this Halloween or any other Halloween hereafter.

I'm not going to delve into proper apple bobbing hygiene or how to detect pop rock candy disguised as crystal meth. No, my warning is of a simpler nature, but it can save you hours of manic panic and duress.

WARNING: Do not color your hair with hairspray from a can.

My story: This year I decided to be Mrs. Mia Wallace, Uma Thurman's iconic character from Pulp Fiction who had a weakness for $5 milkshakes, hand-rolled cigarettes and hitmen who could bust a twisty move.

mia wallace.JPG
I purchased a short, straight banged black wig for the event, but when the evening arrived, I had doubts. Staring back at me in the mirror was an early Beatle, not Mia. I didn't even come close to resembling the Cleopatra lady on the cover of the package. I tried to flatiron the wig, but ultimately made it worse. Rather than show up at the party as an electrocuted Ringo Starr, I decided to improvise and take matters into my own hair. Since I have a similar style to the Mia Wallace bob, I decided to pick up a bottle of temporary color hairspray to spray paint my hair black instead.

[Cue Nightmare on Elm Street theme].

I styled my hair, as instructed by the can, then sprayed from 8 to 10 inches away. At first my hair looked a bit gray and ashy, but not horrible, so I continued to spray until I felt color dripping down my ears. I scrubbed at my blackened skin with a washcloth until I achieved the right level of darkness. I washed my hands, slipped on my crisp white freshly ironed shirt and gave myself one last look. I touched up my makeup, accidentally leaving a swipe of black across my face, leftover from my just washed hands. Trying to get it off just made it worse, so I stopped before I transformed into Al Jolson.

I redid my makeup with a sponge, only to look down and find makeup spots staining my shirt. I tried to rub the makeup stains out, adding more black to the mix, pushing my bangs out of my eyes in frustration and contaminating my digits even more. This went on for another 15 minutes or so in what became a dye job domino effect before I gave up and settled for messy Mia.

The drive to the party sucked since I couldn't rest my tainted head on the headrest, and once I got there I was scared to hug anyone, worrying that I would infect them as well. During the next few hours I couldn't wait to go home and wash my hair.

On the can it read "Color is easily removed." Lies. It took four shampoos and Silkwood like scrubbing before the water ran clear, and my tub was left looking like a crime scene.

If you consider buying a bottle of this nightmare in a can, just don't. Wear the wig, no matter how bad it is. You'll wear it again and the wig can be taken off.

Mia is cool, but after my ordeal, George Harrison is a winning alternative.

Comments (1)

pammy:

sorry for your ordeal. black is not forgiving.

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Samara Sanchez

About Sammy

Sammy Sanchez is a Miami based freelance writer, greeting card designer, and self-professed USWeeklyholic. Sammy loves tall coffee light frappuccinos, vino not from a box, and Mark Ruffalo...not necessarily in that order.
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