In the mid-90’s, we were preteens living in the small, dusty city of Ridgecrest, California. Our idols included gymnast Shannon Miller, actresses Jodie Sweetin and Melissa Joan Hart, and pop group Wilson Phillips. Besides fame, all of these babes had one thing we lacked: great hair.
Our mostly mixed European roots dictated fair complexions and flat-butt quaffs. We often lamented about a “lack of body” in our hair. Truth is, our hair had more problems than a simple lack of body. It was downright stringy.
Over the years, our mother tried various fixes, each more cringy than the last and unfortunately documented via the dreaded school photos. One time, Lord help us, she “permed” our hair. Problem was, our bangs were still straight. Oooof.
Bangs were problematic in and of themselves. Often cut far too short, we’d then insist on curling them, shrinking them again by half. We’d grab the Aquanet hairspray and let her rip. This resulted in a look that left one half of a forehead bare and the other half covered by a curl so strong, we could use it as a hook to hang from the monkey bars.
One time, Bethany decided to further elevate this look by using her trusty curling iron to achieve the perfect face frame of Brady-bunch style ringlets.
But we digress. You Knockers already know some of our childhood hair style woes. Today, we bring you a story about the solution to our woes: professional highlights by a stylist named Janice.*
Who is Janice, you may ask. Well, she was one of approximately four hairstylists employed in Ridgecrest, California at the time. She was a woman of a certain age, with a short, dyed, blonde bob and the perfect person for the job.
You see, Kara had finally worn down our mother after weeks of begging and pleading. She had done whatever she needed to do to get our dad to agree. The time had come. We booked an appointment for Kara at the only known, and slightly reputable, joint in town: Visible Changes.
Visible, indeed.
Bethany recalls sitting for what felt like hours in the row of three waiting chairs at the front of the salon while Kara chatted it up with Janice, getting her up to speed on the first thirteen(ish) years of her life.
A foam-like cap was applied to Kara’s head. This should have been a red flag. What self- respecting professional stylist would use a cap for highlights?
Out came the crochet hook, as small pieces of spaced out hair appeared through the cap, looking like one of those scary baby dolls with the semi-bald head after too much wig has been pulled out.
Next, the dye chemical was applied liberally throughout the pulled-out strands and Kara was sent to process. After that, came the rinse. When it finally came time for Kara to return to the swivel chair, Janice removed the foam cap and a collective gasp filled the air.
Bethany and Kara, mouths agape, witnessed their first BLEACH LEAK.
It is difficult to describe the sight of a bleach leak, but we will give it our best shot. It looked as if the sun itself shrunk to the size of a mini soccer ball and nestled itself into the bang and top area of Kara’s head. The entirety of the ball was a bright, bright yellow splotch. There were no highlights. Only bleach.
Once Bethany recovered from the blindness that was Kara’s new ‘do, she glanced at her sister’s face. It was twisted into a sort of eyebrow-raised, slightly amused, but wildly outraged expression of,
“How will I recover from this?”
Janice tried her best to do a fix job, but the bleach persisted. Kara was destined for weeks of ponytails and headbands.
Visible Changes sure lived up to its name. Amazingly, we still frequented the joint after this first experience. Our friend Alicia continued to patronize the establishment after they accused her of lifting a blue nail polish and painting her nails with it while she waited for her friend’s hair cut (she was wearing chipped blue nail polish at the time). Hey, it was a small town and options were limited.
Bleach leak is probably the worst of Kara’s hair styling woes, although over the years there have been some rivals. She’s endured orange and pink and even silver looks when attempting a simple, “natural” colored dye job. It all makes one wonder why not just stick with the actual natural?
How about you? What’s your worst hairstyling nightmare? You know the drill…let us know in the cawwwwments!
*We’ve slightly altered this name for privacy.
I was actually expecting a pic of the Bleach Leak. No pics? Didn't happen. Thems the rules. LOL
Thank you for lightening up my coffee with this Bleach Leak story!!! Happy (hilarious!) start of my day. I also remember at 15 when I used Sun In on my hair, and ended up with orange hair!! I was mortified.