Fictionary: Backseat Dryer

Fictionary is a column showcasing beauty-related words that don’t exist, but should.


Here’s a dirty, dirty secret about me: I’m offered at least two blowouts a week and I turn them down almost every time.  Yes, I know that’s a first-world problem. But hear me out. First of all, my time is money: I’m a freelancer. So to spend an hour+ in transit, plus the wait time and time it takes for the wash and style, I’m typically out 1.5-2 hours of my day. Compare that to the time it would take if I were to do my hair myself, which is about 10-15 minutes post-shower. I have it DOWN, son. Save for my go-to stylists post color at Sally Hershberger or my mane man Matt Fugate at Serge Normant, I actually prefer the style I create myself. Too often, I race home from a blowout with soccer-mom strands and rewash.

But the most difficult part about getting a bad blowout? The “I’d like to thank the Academy” portion where you know things are going awry. I find myself saying things like “Maybe you could use a round brush” or “Can you not pour serum on my roots?” And that’s just being a backseat dryer. I’m better off doing it myself and then effing up my own handiwork in the subsequent 86-degree Tracy Anderson class I inevitably have scheduled directly following the style sesh.

Are you a backseat dryer? Or do you love a professional ‘do? Tell me everything in the comments.

1 Comment Fictionary: Backseat Dryer

  1. Pingback: Fictionary: Spin Cycle | Rouge 18

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