Birthday Beautifications

There's only one day in a year when it really matters how I look: my birthday. It's the one day I can be sure that someone will take a picture of me first thing in the morning, wearing no make-up, and preserve it for posterity. So some time ago I decided that, once a year at least, I need help (and spend money) to look my best.

So, I began today with a luxurious facial, at Cowshed Spa, just off Carnaby Street in London, followed by less enjoyable eyebrow tidy & tint. This time I also decided to have my eyelashes tinted.

To me I look as if I'd woken up the morning after a night out, having not taken my make-up off...

My hair, as always, is on top of the list when I want to look my best and obviously I wanted to visit my favourite salon in London, Rossano Ferretti. My lovely hairdresser, Clare, first did my colour using the clever cling film technique I wrote about here, then, while we listened to the thunder and lighting outside the salon (can't believe it's late April, nearly May), she cut and styled my hair.

This is not a look I'd usually wish to share, but I wanted show you how the colour is done.

Here's the result of today's efforts. Although it was raining cats and dogs when I left the salon, I managed not to get absolutely soaked on my way to the tube.

I'm not wearing a stitch of make-up.

Cowshed Spa
31 Foubert's Place
London
W1F 7QG
Tel. 02075340870
www.cowshedonline.com

Rossano Ferretti
17 St George Street
London
W1S 1FJ
Tel. 02074930555
www.metodororossanoferretti.com

The New Rossano Ferretti Hairspa in London

If you're read this blog regularly you know by now how important my hair is to my appearance. I'd go as far as to say that I don't really care about the rest as long as my hair is OK. So you can imagine that I was immediately tempted by a new salon to open in London, that of Italian born hairdresser Rossano Ferretti.

Rossano Ferretti isn't just any celebrity hairdresser; he has solid roots (as it were) in the business having grown up in a rural Italian village where both his parents were hairdressers. (There is a picture of his mother on the wall of the London salon). He now runs 20 salons (in Milan, Paris, New York, LA, Miami, Venice, to name but a few cities) together with his sister, Lorenzo. London is his latest enterprise.

Rossano Ferretti himself says the reason for his success is a closely guarded technique called 'The Method', in which hair is cut in several directions to make it fall naturally. The colour treatments are different too: Clare, my hairdresser, blended several shades and with the help of cling film rather than the usual foils, applied it so that it looked 'soft and harmonic'. My hair looked like it did when as a child I'd spent a long sun-filled summer in our cottage by the lake in central Finland. What's more, my roots are barely visible now after more than two months (I had no time to have my colour done on my last visit).

Another factor which I am sure contributes to Rossano Ferretti's success across the world is that all his salons are set in old historic buildings. In London Rossano has turned a house on St George Street, which belonged to William Morris, (it's handily just off Regent Street and opposite the Vogue offices), into a luxurious spa.

When you enter the house you're first welcomed by a most handsome man (and you think you've stepped into a Calvin Klein perfume ad), then as you go up the spiral staircase to the first floor, a friendly lady settles you into a room with disconcertingly few mirrors for a hairdressers. Instead there is a large black shiny table where the consultation, as well as the colour application takes place. This is all in order to relax the client - Rossano has realised that no woman (or man for that matter) wishes to see themselves with head-full of foils or cling film. Clever man.

There are three more floors, including private spaces for those celebrity clients who do not wish to be seen by others while their tresses are being perfected. Everywhere there are chandeliers, black gleaming marble and smiling staff. It's as if you've stepped into a wealthy person's domain and you are the most important guest they've ever had in their mansion.

Of course this kind of luxury hairdressing isn't cheap. But I have to say both my colour and cut have lasted longer than the usual six weeks, so... Also, for that occasional treat, I would wholeheartedly recommend the Rossono Ferretti experience. Come to think of it, my birthday is coming up....

Rossano Ferretti Hairspa
17 St George Street
London
W1S 1FJ
Telephone 02074930555
london@metodorossanoferretti.com
www.metodorossanoferretti.com

Bad hair day - Mark II

Some time ago I wrote a post about how awful it is to go out with unkempt hair. But recently I found out that too much of a good thing can be bad too.

Having my hair nice-looking has always been really important to me. I spend a small fortune on my hair, and when living back in the sticks used to make the trip up to London just to visit my hairdressers. Local friends took the mickey out of me mercilessly and some were incredulous that I should 'waste' a day just to have my hair done. Of course when the children were small these trips were far and few between, but when they started school, ahem, just a few years ago, I had a standing two monthly 'hair-run' up to town.

So I don't let just anyone touch my hair. Hence I'm not sure what came over me recently. I had a couple of hours to kill in Tampere before taking the train to Helsinki. I chose to spend them in a hairdressers chair in an unknown salon in the middle of Finland in a town I was born in but haven't lived in since I was eleven years old. I must have been temporarily deranged.

In this state, however, I skipped and hopped to a salon in a well-known department store in the city and asked if they could wash and style my hair. It was a Thursday afternoon and the salon had no bookings. 

The girl asked me the usual questions about where I lived, etc. and was mightily impressed when I told her I'd just moved to London. I said I wanted to have my hair done because I was going to see my friends in Helsinki and would love it if I didn't have to do my hair again for a couple of days. The girl nodded and as she pulled at my wet locks I decided to stop the chatting. It obviously affected her concentration. By the time I got out of the washing area she'd managed to wash half of my face as well as block my ears with the water. I was beginning to feel a little faint thinking that if she couldn't even wash hair properly, how could she blow dry it? 

When I sat down in front of the mirror and she told me that I had ' a lot of hair and it was all very strong,' I regained some of my confidence. She knew something at least. Besides  with wet hair I was too far gone by now. I just nodded and said that it does take a long time to dry and it might be best not to try to style it from absolutely wet. The girl nodded and started to pin my dripping hair up and blow dry it section by section. Just what I had told her not to do.

I sat back in the chair and tried to concentrate on Gloria, the Finnish Vogue.

But the pain of having your hair pulled by an inexperienced hairdresser was too much. I was compelled to watched in silence as she struggled to dry my hair in just the wrong way. Finally when she'd finished, I started to pull at the uncomfortable gown and got up.

'Ill just backcombe it a bit,' she said and gently pushed me back down onto the chair. 

Now, I'm very lucky yo have strong, plentiful hair, I have never even tried to backcombe it. Mainly because it just doesn't need it, and partly because the practise just reminds me of the kind of hair that women in Heartbeat and other old TV series set in the 1960's have. It looks good on a 18-year-old but if I tried it people would probably think I'd jut never got around changing my hairstyle...ok, I'm not THAT old, but  you get the picture.

But this girl loved backcombing my hair. As well as the top, she did the fringe, the sides, everything. And then she flicked the ends up. While she worked she sprayed hair lacquer all over my hair. I watched in shocked silence. I wasn't able to say anything, nor remove myself from the chair. The end result was a bad version of this:

I think what the hairdresser was trying to do was the hairstyle Zoe Lucker sports in East Enders, above. 

As soon as I got out of her clutches I ran to the ladies' loos on the top floor of the store and with my fingers tried to flatten the bouffant. But the hairspray stood fast and I resigned myself to having to meet my old school friends looking like our mothers did when we were born. 

The one up side was that I didn't have to wash the hair for about a week. In that sense the Tampere hairdresser did exactly what I'd asked her to do.  

Falling in love with Rome

I can't quite believe that this is my first trip to see the Eternal City. Just as well, younger and hungrier I would've never left this place. I'm back to the UK on Saturday and already dreading it. More posts to follow, now off to get ready for dinner at the famed Il Pagliaccio at Via dei Banchi Vecchi. I leave you with some pictures of my time here so far.

Our tempoary home here in Rome. Lovely newly decorated flat. Unfortunately it's been done by a man so no hairdrier (new cut in constant bed head state), no pictures, no dressing table, too few mirrors. You get the idea. But very central by Via di Ripetta.



A very Roman street scene. Boxes were removed a few moments later, but I loved the contrast between the rubbish, shiny scooter and ancient door.

We had lunch in this small family run taverna. Bread and wine to die for. Fiaschetteria Marini, near Via Veneto and walking distance from Galleria Borghese with its stunning collection of Renaissance and Baroque art.


OK, had to put this in too...to add to the millions of pictures just like it.

Another narrow Roman street, with light playing on the contours of the crescent.

Do I really have to return to dreary, cold, practical England?