“What do you think of my hair?” I ask my husband, Jonathan, tilting my head and arching my back to show off my swishy new extensions in their full glory.
He pauses before answering and, because we’ve been married for 13 years, I can read his mind. He’s torn between wanting to admire my glossy waves, but also not wanting to negate all the times over the past few years when he has assured me that hair doesn’t matter.
Four years ago I was beginning 20 weeks of gruelling chemotherapy for breast cancer. Over the next few months Jonathan would quietly collect handfuls of hair that I’d shed around the house, subtly putting it in the bin so that I wouldn’t see. Meanwhile I would be crying in the shower as it came away in clumps and wincing every time I noticed him studiously not looking at my bald patches when my headscarf was off. Everything about cancer treatment was hard, but losing my hair was the most visible side-effect, and it felt like an assault on my identity.
Healthy hair is a symbol of vitality and a way that we express our unique attractiveness. In many religions it has a spiritual and sacred significance. Despite this, if you had asked me if hair was important at any point before that diagnosis, I would have shrugged and said, “I guess?” As with so many things in life, you don’t know what you’ve got until it has gone.
Happily, my treatment was successful (which is, of course, the main thing) and my hair grew back. But it grew back differently. Chemo caused early menopause, aged 40. And after the initial curly regrowth, I soon realised with a heavy heart that my hair was duller, flatter and thinner than before.
Could extensions lift my mood and confidence, as well as my hair volume?
When I think of hair extensions I tend to think of fake-looking mermaid waves surrounding an overfilled face; a look that became ubiquitous everywhere from Love Island to the red carpet — and one to which I do not aspire.
But now long extensions are shedding their low-rent reputation, with flowing hair accompanying the boho looks at Chloé’s winter collection and trickling down to the high street in time for spring. After years of all the cool girls having bobs, this summer will see long hair swishing around everywhere from a smart country wedding to an east London music festival.
Jaime Hunt, the extensions specialist at Hershesons’ Fitzrovia salon, in London, says that her clients are all ages, from Gen Z women asking for Molly-Mae Hague-style waves, to those in perimenopause and beyond, who have noticed their hair is not as full as it once was.
“As women get older, they don’t want to look like the Golden Girls,” she says. “They want to look like Demi Moore or Jennifer Aniston.”
My other misconception about hair extensions is that they require hours in the salon. Jaime uses tape extensions: wide, flat sections of hair that are taped on near your roots. If you turn up with clean hair for your appointment, you can be in and out within an hour.
As Hunt produces an array of extensions in a variety of shades (to match my own hair, which is highlighted towards the ends and darker underneath), my initial feeling is one of discomfort. This is all human hair: where did it come from?
Hunt assures me that all the hair is ethically sourced. It largely comes from India, where offering hair to the gods is thought to bring blessings and good luck.
Tape extensions don’t damage your existing hair, so they can be used while you’re growing out a shorter style. Hunt says that people are often surprised at how much their own hair has grown, once the extensions are removed. Just as a watched pot never boils, so overanalysed hair doesn’t seem to grow.
She tongs my hair before I leave, giving me the bounciest waves I’ve ever known, and I walk out of the salon feeling like Beyoncé in the Crazy in Love video. The sun emerges from behind a cloud, people smile at me, a man with a tray of free falafels practically chases me down the street to offer me one. Is this the power of great hair? Or the power of the confidence that comes from great hair?
The maintenance is much easier than I had feared: I can wash and dry it as normal, using a sulphate-free shampoo and conditioner only through the mid-lengths and ends. Hunt recommends a gentle Tangle Teezer-style brush and Hershesons Almost Everything Cream to smooth frizz, add texture and boost shine.
• Why you should try hair extensions — even with thick hair
The downside is that it requires a bit more styling. My own hair has a natural wave, so is easily discernible from the very straight extensions, unless I take the time to blow-dry it properly. It looks better with a bit of a wave, so ideally I’d blow-dry it smooth and then curl it with a tong. This is probably doable for many people, but sadly I have never had the skill nor the patience to be good at styling my own hair. Throw in two kids demanding breakfast while I’m trying to get ready and it isn’t going to happen.
Meanwhile, protecting my tape extensions means I avoid swimming with my daughter, my cherished hot yoga classes and the sauna. I’m being overcautious. “I have plenty of clients who tie their hair up on top of their head and they’re usually fine,” Hunt assures me, although she does add that “the steam and sweat in the sauna can cause a bit of slipping”.
Also, it’s quite an investment. A full head of tape extensions at Hershesons costs £800, and they need to be redone every six to eight weeks at £275 a pop. (There are more affordable options if you’re looking for volume rather than length such as individual tape fillers to target specific areas, which start at £80.)
So, while I love the confidence I get from my new hair, I don’t think I’ll become a long-term extensions wearer. Having said that, I haven’t had them removed yet and, after weeks of swishing my chest-length hair around, it seems inevitable that I’ll be disheartened by the sight of my old shoulder-length strands. As James once sang: “If I hadn’t seen such riches/ I could live with being poor.”
Especially now that, having been nudged for his opinion, Jonathan has confessed: “You look like you did when we first met.” Oof. Maybe it’s a worthwhile investment after all. Who needs saunas anyway?
