My relationship with hair dye is a short but complicated one. Aside from the all-too-liberally applied Sun-In of my youth, my foray into artificial color was confined to my freshman and sophomore years of college, wherein I went strawberry blonde once successfully and twice unsuccessfully, eventually returning to my roots (literally) when I realized that I was dropping $90 bucks a pop along with the instructions to "make it look natural." Like many epiphanies we have throughout the day that aren't shared with the world due to their Captain Obvious nature, when I realized that I was paying someone loads of money to make my hair look exactly like, well, my hair, it became obvious that my efforts were being wasted and I went back to my naturally dishwater-meets-mouse-brown hue. The way I saw it, I'd have plenty of time to cover greys as I got older (or, you know, NOW. Cue withering sigh), so I may as well enjoy the short-lived moment of not being enslaved by the bottle.
If there's any trend in the well-tressed amongst us right now that would lure me back to the stylist's chair, it's the flash-in-the-pan, so right-this-moment-it-hurts, blink-once-and-you'll-miss-it ombré dips, dyes, and rainbow streaks seen all over the place. Witness exhibits A - Z: Proenza Schouler, Giles Deacon, bloggers, editorials...everyone's striping their coifs with a swipe of manic panic, a fleeting and ephemeral reminder that trends are, above all else, fun. The key, it seems, is to keep the rest of the 'do natural, unkempt, even beachy - and hey, all qualms about getting back to the bottle aside, I can do unkempt and beachy like it's my job.