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Recently I have been seeing a lot of women rocking the shit out of Ombré hair, and I couldn’t help but want to jump on that train. 

For those of you who are slightly unaware of this new trend, Ombré is just a fancy way of describing anything that starts out dark and gradually gets lighter. Of course this seemed absolutely exciting to me, like all of my favorite fashion statements this one can be slightly underrated.

Have you ever seen a girl with hair bleached so light it almost looks white, far beyond any hopes of her hair being healthy. She is overdue for a hair appointment, and she lets her dark brown roots come in. That is how most people imagine Ombré hair, and they are kind of right. It is exactly the sort of trashy, heroin chic bullshit I just eat up.

I decided to try color my hair at home, being the control freak I am. Naturally, I asked for a little help from my roommate, an extra set of eyes is all to important for making absolute sure my hair won’t get all tiger striped. We went to the drug store to pick up two boxes of hair dye (You can never be too safe) and some sour patch kids for a little sugar rush. My hair was already dark brown, so we simply applied color starting at the tips, and worked our way up. We used a toothbrush to blend the color in, what with being such classy ladies and all. The brush really was helpful with blending in the line where brown meets gold-ish blond. Gradually changing and getting lighter, instead of looking so defined and harsh.

Boom, Simple and ghetto style. We got it done, and I am completely pleased with the outcome.

ImagePlease excuse the horrific lighting // quality of this photo. I blame cell phones.

They say we are all doomed to turn into our mothers; am I turning into my grandmother?

Truthfully the woman I’m referring to isn’t exactly my grandmother, she’s my great-aunt, we simply always call her auntie.  But she played the vital role of grandmother in my eyes, and thus, I always thought of her as one. Hell, my whole family mixes up the proper names, second cousins twice removed become simply cousins, or cousin who are ancient dinosaurs morph into aunts/uncles. Just the other day I was sitting at Noodlecat “Cleveland’s Ramenhouse & Steam Bun Emporium” and I realized something as I was eating the shit out of my Tempura Soba Dori, I was dressed exactly as my auntie would have dressed, and her lady like dinner manners have completely consumed my being.

Mmm, Noodlecat puts heart’s in my eyes.

 I was wearing her classic look; high-waisted jeans, and a striped dress shirt tied right above the pants. Although she never wore jeans, only dress pants, and would rather wear a nice pair of loafers than fancy lady high heels, I looked like a much younger version of her. The complexity is much more than simply the way I dress, it’s the things I’m fond of, the people I’ve befriended, the men I find attractive. It’s all her, maybe her in the 40’s, but her taste all the same. She wasn’t exactly the ideal grandmother figure for everyone, she was extraordinarily proper and judgemental, not all love and sweet thoughts all the time. But she was fucking great, she let me watch pretty woman with her, she had the most magical backyard, and she introduced me coffee at the age of 9. I waited impatiently on the bar stool and couldn’t hide my excitement as she set a flowery teacup on the counter for me, but before I could have a sip she needed to complete it with a chocolate wafer stick. So I tried it, I thought it was the most horrid thing and wanted to spit it out at once, but I didn’t. I knew that coffee was for sophisticated ladies and that’s what I wanted to be, that’s what my aunt was. Of course now I’m a complete slave to espresso all thanks to this woman.

I catch myself using her catch phrases rather often, it’s like major deja vu. She says things full of ridiculousness, such as “oh heavens!” you know, the adorable things old ladies ought to say.

So even if I’m not an exact copy, I’m actually quite content with being a smidge like her.