Have you ever wanted a fabulous blowdry that lasts for months? I found this article from Daily Mail. I was impressed. Afterwards I found little news about it on vogue.co.uk, so it seems that it is some kind of launch of a new service. Now I am skeptical and wonder if it is really that good like the girl describes in this article?
Why do my hair and I hate Britain's seasons so? Let me count the ways. When it rains, my hair frizzes into candyfloss. When it's hot and I step into the cool air conditioning, my hair bristles in shock. With every gust of wind, the haystack tangle on the back of my head grows bigger and stronger, like some hairy animal that threatens to suffocate me.
My hair is thick, coarse and disobedient. I function day-to-day only with a strict regime of blow-drying and straightening. Such styling is tedious in the extreme, yet I am still a slave to it. My hairdryer and ghd straighteners may make me more presentable, but they are so time-consuming I lose out on sleep and have a nasty case of Frizzer's Elbow from all those hours spent holding the instruments of torture over my fluffy head.
So when I hear of a new treatment that promises the effect of a "permanent blow-dry" that lasts three months, I unplug my hairdryer, throw down my tongs and race to Daniel Hersheson's salon in London's Mayfair. "Are you absolutely sure you haven't used any bleach?" asks Amir, the stylist, as he holds up a woolly hank of my hair between a disapproving thumb and forefinger.
Bleach?! My hair is almost as dark as Morticia Addams's, thanks to an unfortunately intense dying disaster a few weeks back. Despite a scalp-full of jet-black evidence proving I am not a naughty user of peroxide, Amir looks unconvinced. "But how else could your hair be so dry, so damaged?" he asks, shuddering theatrically.
He has 35 years' experience with hair, and I get the feeling my barnet is upsetting him. "We must get rid of your wiry hair. No more frizz!" Fine, I think. Fine. Give me all the abuse you like, just fix my frizz. And so he does. "This product works best on coloured and damaged hair,' he raves, eager to begin. "In fact, the worse condition your hair is in, the better the treatment performs."
I smile along with him and keep my fingers tightly crossed. First, his assistant shampoos and conditions my hair. Judging by her platinum crop, she is no stranger to bleach, yet her hair is soft and silky and sits just so. Very promising. Next, Amir sits me down in front of the mirror and paints on the nourishing treatment, section by section. It's a protein-rich superfood for hair, apparently, soothing each strand with a blend of cocoa, plant vitamins, red clay and other natural ingredients.
It smells so much like caramel that I want to dive in tongue first. If it didn't cost upwards of £200, I'd be licking the brush. The treatment stays on for about ten minutes, and instead of washing it out, Amir starts rough-drying it. The product dries to a silky, ungreasy finish, though I do worry it will look lank later on. But as Amir painstakingly blow-dries my hair around a barrel brush, I can see the bouncy yet smooth style taking shape.
I am pleased to note it takes him 45 minutes - and he's a professional. No wonder my at-home hairdrying sessions were so tough on my arms. The prospect of not having to wrestle with my wire-wool hair for three months is delicious. The finish Amir gives my hair is so good that when he picks up the straighteners I falter. Would that not spoil it? He explains that the treatment is not complete unless it is sealed into each hair shaft with the straighteners.
But he reassures me that unlike other hair relaxants, this stuff isn't going to make my hair brittle and poker-straight. In fact, the idea is that natural waves and curls remain; but they're smoother and more defined. I breathe out and let him have his way with the straighteners. As I glide out of the salon, half blinded by the shine coming off my head, I take note of Amir's strict instructions for the next three days, until I am allowed to shampoo my hair myself.
Rain and hairbands are the enemy: water will make my hair frizz up permanently (horrors!), and even one ping of a tight hairband will cause an irreparable kink. "Really," he says tenderly, "you do have beautiful hair now. It will be easy for you to take good care of it." I shake the miracle-worker's hand. I may have even promised him my first-born. For the next three days, I stay in and watch my hair get more and more greasy.
When I am finally allowed to shampoo it, I leave it to dry naturally - something I'd never have done before, even if an axe-murderer had been chasing me from my house. But sure enough, my hair dries as soft as a kitten's and twice as glossy. To the untrained eye (i.e., my boyfriend's), my hairstyle looks just the same. Only better. It takes prompting, but he does notice that my hair looks luscious and shiny like never before.
My new locks aren't Halloweenfrightwig straight, but glossy and smooth. For once, if I want tousled locks, I'll have to get busy with my curling tongs. The best thing is, it holds the style yet has lots of natural movement. The massive tangle that has lurked at the top of my neck since the dawn of time is gone. My fingers glide through it over and over again, unable to believe they haven't been eaten by the Venus flytrap-like jaws of my old tangles.
The only other restriction about the permanent blow-dry is that you can't colour or bleach your hair for three days after having the treatment, but after that you're free to do as you please. So is the permanent blow-dry worth the money? Gisele Bundchen, the only supermodel who out-earns Kate Moss, swears by it. But for ordinary women without million-dollar salaries, is it just an indulgent treat for the party season ahead? Absolutely not. As Amy Winehouse will no doubt testify, when your hair is a frizzy mess, your whole life can go haywire.
Now that I'm glossed to the max, my friends comment on how much more relaxed and happy I seem. My hair is not just manageable, but a delight. I stop fussing over it, even when I have to dash straight from work to a black-tie party in 20 minutes flat. "But," warns my friend Anna, "if you keep swishing your hair about smugly like that, I can't promise I'll be able to stop myself hacking it off."
• Daniel Henderson's salon is on Conduit Street, London W1, 020 7434 1747. Prices from £200.
Donatella Versace is officially to be recognised as a fashion megastar. The Italian design dynamo will be awarded the prestigious Superstar Award by Fashion Group International at this year's annual Night of Stars gala - which celebrates its 25th year in 2008 - at Cipriani Wall Street on October 23. Poignantly for Versace, her brother Gianni won the award in 1995, two years before his death. 
