Imperfect purple tipping (hair-related alliteration)

Sometimes I just want to do something different with my hair. Usually this results in ill-advised experimentation and the realisation that I am actually not a hairdresser and no, it’s not as easy as it looks.

I figured I would like to have purple tips to my red hair..sounds easy right? Well aside from the obstacle of having painted the bathroom walls green today, there are actually some tricky aspects to this endeavour, not to mention the feathering I have at the front. I will show you the result because then you’ll see what I struggled with.


Thanks to a tip from my hairdresser (tie your hair up in hairbands and backcomb a bit) I managed to avoid the nasty straight line dip dye effect, however what I didn’t quite manage was making the effect quite even on both sides. It’s OK though because it will wash out in a couple of weeks (probably) and without a camera flash, i.e. if you have eyes rather than a phone camera, the colour looks much darker, which is in turns disappointing and a blessing. Have you ever tried to take a photo of your hair from the back? It requires some contortion!
I’ll pop some extra crimson over the rest of my hair to brighten it up next weekend as it’s beginning to look a little orangey already, then think about balancing out the purple or, y’know, just wash it out. Or do the whole lot purple maybe? I am due to attend a funeral and a work trip for which purple and red hair is fine, but badly done purple and red hair is less good. In the worst case I’ll just wear it in a bun and look smart and /or professional..ish

I’ll just hope my skin isn’t so bad I need my hair to hide it. I don’t want to involve an actual hairdresser as that will result in a £60 fee, so I’ll keep on trying to fix my mistakes until I go too far…

I should add that this is my second attempt at this effect, and this time is considerably better, so imagine how the first one went…if you leave a dye like this on already dyed hair for longer than it says on the box it doesn’t go brighter, it just gets darker!

In case you are weird and want to try this for yourself, or if you are my future self and can’t remember, I used colour freedom in mystic purple on top of schwarzkopf live and lift in shade 38. I will top up the red using colour freedom in crimson, and probably simultaneously decorate the sink, floor, towels, walls and toilet with artistic pinky blotchy patches :S

A pale Iris sky


I breathe in the profound chill of seeing a lunar cycle behind your eyes.
The rise and fall of expectation hidden in the craters.
We used to bathe in Diana’s silvery light, but now our backdrop is sickly cerulean blue.
Each pulse of dilation seems to drink in the strength, leaving only disproportionate waning, in ever-diminishing orbits.
Where once the gravity of our entwined existence kept us giddily and circling, now it pulls us only to the ground.

I’m still searching in your eyes in hope of a new moon, but are you already seeking out something new?

© PickledSparklyMoosePrincess – author

more poems

The morphing face of perception

As I have described before, I find my own visage reminiscent of something squiddish. Or at least I did. Some peculiar change has taken place recently in the face that lives in the ocean at the bottom of the mirror that cannot entirely be explained by my all too tardy discovery of eyebrow pencils. No, there is something inexplicably different and almost, human about the overall mask. It’s uncannily like I am simply Homo sapiens like you and not a demon-spawed sea-creature abomination. Could it be that I’ve transformed through some cephalopodic adolescence into my mature form? A flood of aquatic hormones that has flushed out the adolescent obsession with facial paranoia? A transition where dysmorphia is displaced by clarity.

It’s funny how a slight change in perspective can alter perception so vastly. The monster under the bed retreats into its former scarf and slippers form with the flick of a switch but I’m left wondering which switch got flicked this time, and how do I keep the light on?

“I think I should be

a little more confident,

in my self,

in my skin” ~Daughter, Home

A rare transferace of joy via these peculiar tentacles

Some rare events have occured in the last couple of days, during which, I have been reminded how incredibly magnificent and affecting Homo sapiens can be.

I’ve had some lovely and silly, breif chats in real life and virtually, and said a sad farewell to a very talented and all-round  delightful student. I didn’t even get awkward about the goodbye hug. Imagine that!

I’ve been listening to the British band Daughter and finding their music increasingly intoxicating. Imagine my delight when I discovered they will play a gig in my city in the new year. Yay!

Anyway, I received a package this morning in the post:


Not sure if you can read that but the two handwritten notes say “ONLY GOOD VIBES X” and “ALWAYS LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE XXX” plus a big yellow thing with a giant smile on, all bundled up in forest green crepe paper and ribbons. You’ll be forgiven for thinking that this might be a mental salvation survival package sent by my mother, but it was actually something I ordered for myself. So cute was the encasement that I almost forgot to take out the items inside; a pair of handmade black tentacle earrings. The adorability of said earrings is immense but the sense of joy I felt was more from the effort that the artist had gone to for someone they had never met. I think I have smiled my way pretty much through an entire day, wearing clay octopus arms in my ear holes, pretending that I’m secretly part cephalopod, and generally thinking that maybe I’m not a total cretin after all for living my ever hopeful existence.

I spent a lot of time working on my latest scientific masterpiece, and I have to say that I’m pretty pleased with the way it is shaping up. My writing and ability to structure, it would seem, have matured into a form much more readily digested and assimilated (we shall see if the boss lady agrees).

We tried in earnest to acquire some jack-o-lanterns for tonight (at my insistence because a Halloween uncelebrated is a grumpfest waiting to happen) but I felt satisfied with the darling honey bear and yellow acorn squashes that a local farm shop had to offer. I presently diemboweled them and performed the necessary crude open surgery.




Shame about the raggedy carving but it’s good enough for me. Sometimes having emotions is a great thing :).

“You could still be,
what you want to,
What you said you were,
when I met you”~Daughter, medicine

Haircare trial failure. Forget mending my hair, please mend my nostrils

I thought I’d try umberto giannini shampoo and conditioner again as I had some success with the weightless feel of the pure beauty range but just as my fingers graced the bottle I noticed a new product range aimed at mending poor condition hair (Mend my hair). Yay! I thought, this must be even better! So I parted with my cash and walked away feeling smug.

Today I tried it out, and here is what I discovered:

-The shampoo comes in a groundbreaking phlegm format, such that you cannot lather, or spread it well and can only apply sticky gobs of the stuff onto your scalp. Yum!
-Being sulphate-free the shampoo is quite mild so if you have a greasy scalp then this will simply not do the job for you and will just leave your scalp feeling dirty. Great stuff!

-The fragrance is unmistakably masculine and reminiscent of cheap mens Deodorant. Who doesn’t want to wear that smell on their head?

-I found that doing a second shampoo with my trusty John Freida shampoo fixed these issues. Phew!

Zero points to the shampoo, it failed to clean or even leave me hair smelling nice. In the bin with you matey!

-The conditioner comes with a slightly different masculine cheap Deodorant scent that is even stronger. You are supposed to leave this bad boy in for 10 mins but I simply couldn’t stand the smell so after 3 mins I caved and washed it out as thoroughly as possible.

-For a conditioner, this guy didn’t do a whole lot of conditioning. It actually made my hair feel weirdly dry and crispy :S so it took a ton of hair oil to get some normalcy back into the texture.

– The scent lingers, oh my god how it lingers! I have added elixir and initialiste (both strongly scented) and dried my hair but it STINKS. Frankly I’m embarrassed to to go work with a head smelling like lynx body spray but I don’t have time to re-wash. If you are a guy I expect the fragrance will be a bit less offensive bit for me it is just horrid. And it’s going to follow me around until tomorrow morning. I’ll keep my hair tied up and hope not too much escapes into the wild (ie nostrils of co-workers)

Bottom line: a shampoo that doesn’t clense and a conditioner that doesn’t moisturise.

Umberto Giannini, you missed the mark on this range. By quite a substantial distance; I’m not even sure you had an arrow in that bow.

New crimson hair!

As those pesky roots are showing, and my vivid initial colour has washed out, I felt it was time to try a new hair dye. I thought I’d have a go at using a non permanent one in between ritual bleachings, to help with condition, as suggested by my hairdresser.

I opted for a brand that is apparently peculiar to Superdrug: knight and Wilson. There are very few reviews about these dyes, so I was a bit skeptical. I did a few hours of skin test ( then scratched it off by mistake) had limited itching (the ingredients list looks pretty innocuous) and did a trial on the ends of my hair. I was dying over the top of my fading red that had now turned orangey. So here is the test strip…the orangey bits on the right are how the rest of my hair looked.


The deep crimson was gorgeous, so I went ahead to do the whole lot.

I found the dye a little tricky to apply because the colour is so intense that it immediately stains everything in sight! I left it on 25 mins which was no chore as it smells quite pleasant, and did a quick shampoo to remove most of the stain from my scalp! The water never once ran clear, I just stopped when the water came off lighter in colour. I don’t think the water has ever run clear on ANY of my hair dyings.

Here is the result:


Yay!! Sadly there was no effect on my unbleached roots but hey-ho. The dye is incredibly conditioning, leaving my hair positively gleaming


Damn, maybe I missed a bit at the back..

Oh well, there is some left in the tube so I can just top that bit up (if it’s bleached)

I got this dye on offer and am so far quite satisfied with the results, let’s see how long the colour lasts! I might try the pink one next time, or even purple on the ends…hmm…

Sorry gorse, I forgot that you existed.. plus other thoughts


The British countryside is awash with spring signs. The lambs bouncing around the fields, the primroses and daffodils sprouting as punctuate golden flares and the great swathes of yellow gorse in flower. I’m sorry gorse, I totally forgot about you for a while there, and so as recompense I will forgive you for being bedecked in such a gaudy hue.

I’m trying my best to maintain a good mood and not let myself wallow at all. Its easter and neither of my parents have any interest in seeing me. One is busy and the other didn’t bother to contact me for months, and I suppose I’m meant to feel guilty that I’m such a dreadful person that they kept putting off contacting me, but I really think this time it is not my fault. Not only that but we are currently visiting SOs family, so I get the joy of being treated as the lowest class of citizen, being both female and young, and not to mention the fact that all three of them think I’m simple. Rather than get swamped in hopeless thoughts of self-doubt and insecurity I’d rather look at the clouds and do some work on the computer, lose myself in reams of data and pathways, lending a pleasant reminder that my career is great and reminding me of a place where I am both appreciated and respected.

I got my boss, the assistant director, to wheel me down a corridor in an office chair…nor no reason other than frivolity. You don’t get that sort of offer every day so I took the throne and  giggled like a two-year-old as I flew down the hall 🙂 powered by the boss lady.

Apparently I haven’t done my full quota of housework for a month. So why is it that rather than make up for my erstwhile slack, I  am spending time finding books by Carl Jung? Why is the interplay between anima and animus, or the collective unconscious more urgent to me than that tangled Web of purples and inky black fabrics that really should be in the washing basket, or better still, washing machine! Perhaps restructuring my value system by reading the forefathers of modern psychology will help me to be a little more practical in times when that is required?

I have treated myself to a new shiny hair product in the shape of kerastase initialiste. This guy is some concoction of delicious smelling goop that is meant to make your hair stronger and shinier. This will come in handy because frankly I’m sick of finding more of my hair in the plughole or hoover than on my head…so the trial has begun. Watch this space!

“We’re just haunted in our skins
By all that could’ve been
You hide it from your face but it still shows”~ida, so long

Shadows to light

I don’t hurt myself like I used to, but I’m reminded of it every time I undress. No-one has ever asked me about these marks, except partners, so either they are embarrassed and scared to ask, or they don’t notice. I guess it’s a bit like overlaying subtle tattoos, and they weave an old but unforgotten story that is as much a part of me as the skin that’s irreversibly scarred. Sometimes I wonder if the physical truth would make me appear attention-seeking to others, or if it lends a certain mystery to my body and mind, but mostly, I think, most of all, it reminds me of a place I will never let myself go again. For that alone, I’d never wish them gone.

I’m reminded of my physical scars because it looks like I’m off for a work trip to the USA in summer, where I will have to wear somewhat more revealing clothing due to the heat, and I’m hoping I’m going to be brave enough to go swimming in the lake this time. Unfortunately swimsuits expose the offending area, and although  I’m sure there are prettier people for others to stare at…my historical reticence for skin-baring may make me an unfortunate target.

Do I care? Well, yes and no. I have the right to flaunt my body scars or no scars, before it gets all saggy and wrinkly 😉 On the other hand, I dread being asked what those weird marks are.

You know what? Fuck it! It’s high time that I appreciated my body for how awesome it is rather than hiding parts away that I’m afraid will be judged. Expect bikini shots anon.

“Everything changes, changes for the good
Even the pain hurts like it should
Everything moves, shadows to light”~heather nova, everything changes

Leaving the light on; boats are bad but boils are worse


Have you read “heart of darkness”? If so, please tell me if it stops being about boats. I really cannot tolerate novels about boats. It was a miracle I made it to the end of “the scar” by China mieville and the “boat” in that was kind of like a raft of hundreds of boats melded into a floating city. Sounds interesting? Nope. Boats, too late, like physics, netball and war stories (Gabriel garcia marquez aside) end in Zzzzzzz. Damn, maybe that would sort out my sleep problems…Hmmm..

If you, like me, are plagued by the detestable unnatural state of growing monumental carbuncles ( ok actually small pimples) on your face, you’ll know how great it is when you find a way to get rid of the bastards. I haven’t touched that tube of panoxyl for months, so in desperation I cracked it open. Three days later and my skin’s pretty clear and nongreasy and then, and only then, do I remember all too late, what happens when you peroxide your face. If you don’t already know, what happens is that your face turns into a human snowglobe, or an early stage zombie and no makeup can rescue you. Oh no! It just makes it look like you’ve got some hideous contagious disease. Mmm tasty.

Soooo that’s pretty much it. I shed facial dandruff for your entertainment and my own stupidit and I try to read about boats because it seemed like a good idea but actually just sends me to sleep (for a while).

“First my left foot
Then my right behind the other
Breadcrumbs lost under the snow”

Call me Princess Squidfeatures

Still haunted by fantastic dreams and allusions I find myself faced by the undeniable reality that my face on Skype via front facing camera is something horrific. I really look like some kind of bizarre sea creature / goblin hybrid yet my nephew immediately recognises me. How dreadful. I’d like to be able to blame this on dysmorphia but I actually do genuinely think there is something of the squiddish hobgoblin in my features.
Perhaps the problem is that someone I barely know told me that I looked beautiful a few days ago, which was overgenerous of them, and although nice, it made me realise how seldom I get such comments on this, most monstrous visage. I see only a collection of imperfections. A quite extensive collection at that.

Sorry folks it’s one of those many days where neither mirror nor camera is my ally. I have been taking my meds so I’m not quite sure what the deal is this time, but not being able to exercise for a week and wearing no makeup for 3 days may have something to do with it, in conjunction with extensive boredom and time for wallowing in silent self-discourse, or maybe it’s because I’m reading Wuthering Heights. I only hope that this bout of bodily and facial dissatisfaction make way for more important and constructive things. For the record, that’s pretty much EVERYTHING else.

Go tell someone that you love how beautiful they are.

“and in the doorway they stay
and laugh as violins fill with water
screams from the bluebells
can’t make them go away”