In the late 1980s, my best friend Jody had glorious naturally curly hair. Mine? Poker straight. I hit the salon every few months to endure a painful, frizz-inducing perm in a futile attempt to achieve the look she was born with.
After this ordeal, my hair was so fried that only daily sessions with hot rollers kept me from looking like Frankenstein’s Bride. By the late 1990s, straight hair was in, so I abandoned the perm and went back to my natural style.
Jill with her 1980s perm
Over the past decade, my hair has developed a weird kink – neither straight, nor curly, just blah. It hangs thinly and limply, then frizzes towards the bottom. But I’ve never abandoned my dream of waking up, shaking my hair and looking like a curly bombshell.
When I heard about the ‘modern perm’, I thought this could be the solution I’ve always hoped for. Googling ‘modern perm’ brings up photos of Kylie Minogue, Sarah Jessica Parker and Halle Berry all looking tousled and sexy – in other words, #hairgoals.
I booked an appointment at Karine Jackson, a salon in London’s Covent Garden area that specialises in perms. At the pre-perm consultation, my stylist, Alasdair Thomson, told it to me straight – a perm wouldn’t let me wake up looking like Kylie.
He thought my hair would hold a curl nicely, once I’d treated it for a few weeks with a special protein shampoo and conditioner (Organic CurlSystems, £22.90 for both) to help strengthen the damaged locks.
He explained that the results of the modern perm don’t look all that different to the 1980s version, but that the chemicals aren’t as harsh, and larger rollers are used so the curls aren’t quite so tight. But it still definitely damages hair because that’s how perms work – by breaking down the disulfide bonds (i.e. protein) in your hair shaft to allow the perm solution to work its magic.
Back in the salon two weeks later, I started the three-hour, nine-step process – wash, roll, add solution, set under drier, rinse, neutralise, wash, condition, apply product.
Most of it is surprisingly painless. In traditional perms (which many salons still offer, so do check), the ‘solution’ step includes ammonia, which stings and burns. As the solution sets on your hair and scalp for 20 minutes, in the past, I’d be almost in tears, but this time? Nothing. It was like having slightly smelly water put on your scalp.
However, the rolling step does still hurt. The stylist has to separate out tiny sections of hair and wind them tightly on rollers, which tugs sharply on your scalp (so word of caution to anyone with hair-loss concerns).
Finally, after three hours, he took the towel off my hair and showed me the mirror. I looked like Curly Sue. This is not what I’d hoped for.
‘Don’t worry,’ Alasdair assured me. ‘It relaxes a lot over the first two weeks.’
As I stared at my crimped hair, I thought I’d need two years for it to ‘relax’ enough to look normal.
Nonetheless, I took note of his advice – no washing for 48 hours, no blow-drying at all, lots of protein shampoo and conditioner, and the application of a daily Organic CurlSystems Keep Curl Memory Gel (£11.95).
My dreams of waking up to bouncy curls were quashed on my first morning, when I was greeted in the mirror with a head of frizz. Speaking to curly-headed friends, they said this, apparently, is normal. No matter how luscious your curls look at bedtime, the friction of the pillow makes you look like you’ve been dragged backwards through the proverbial bush. The only solution is to spray water and leave-in conditioner on your hair, and scrunch it.
For the next two weeks, I didn’t learn to like my new Medusa look. No matter how much I followed Alasdair’s instructions - twirl segments of wet hair with fingers, scrunch the locks with curl creme, let dry, tousle the scalp, never brush it - it didn’t suit me. During this time, friends I met didn’t want to be rude, so they would just say, ‘What a big change!’ or ‘Your hair looks so different!’
Eventually, I’d had enough. I woke up, washed my hair - and, against all advice, blow-dried it with a large round brush, just like I used to before the perm.
Ta da! - I looked human again. But the real advantage – even though my hair was styled the same way as before the perm, it looked much fuller, with nary a limp lock in sight. And the next day? Unlike pre-perm, where day-two hair always meant greasy, lank locks, my style actually still looked pretty much the same.
So the permed look might not be for me, but the thickness and style duration are definite pluses. On the downside, no matter how much I play with it, I still don’t look like Kylie.
Perms at Karine Jackson (020 7836 0300) start from £100.
(Images: Jill Starley-Grainger, Jeff Liller)