Froya Organics

bad news

But first: a slightly disastrous haircut. At a place I have previously had a good haircut, but this time I went too short. I was feeling cavalier, very fuck it. “Take it to the chin!” I ordered.

“A lot shorter than last time!” said the stylist.

“That’s fine, I want it short,” I said. In my head I was thinking of Jesse Buckley, of Pandora Sykes’ sassy little pixie head when she had her super-short bob.

So snippety snip went the scissors and it was really fucking short. And the stylist, of course, dried it into a terrible mushroom shape. Why! Why, why do they always do that.

I looked like the cross-section of a sausage roll, or a pencil with a blob of blu-tak on the end. I looked like I had giant dog-ears. Ears made from hair. What I did not look like was Pandora Sykes. Perhaps like a distant, demented cousin, newly returned from documenting the remaining descendants of the Arawak.

“Thanks!” I whispered to the stylist and sprinted home with my hands clamped to my head.

Giles just regarded me, silently.

“Shut the fuck up!” I barked. “I’ve had enough of your sniping and jeers.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You said it with your eyes!”

Anyway, I washed it and dried it into a normal shape and now it looks alright - but not before I had to do a photoshoot, naturally. So that will be on the internet forever.

Onwards! Readers with better short-term memories than mine might remember that I was sucked into buying an entire skin system from Froya Organic, which makes face-balms out of sea buckthorn, or algae or Norwegian surfers’ toe jam or something. Anyway I have been using it faithfully for weeks, now, and the results are in.