A quest that began while lying in bed led to a journey to nowhere

For the past few months, I’ve been on a quest. I’ve invested countless hours, spent way too much money, tried dozens of products, practised multiple techniques. I’ve pored over videos, wasted water, even started a fire in my bathroom. It was not in pursuit of some noble goal. It was to achieve flawless Instagram hair.

“And with that I fell down an Instagram rabbit hole. I watched countless videos, all featuring women who looked like they’d stepped out of shampoo ads.” Credit: Getty

It began, as quests do, while lying in bed. I was scrolling idly through reels on my phone when my screen filled with an image of frizzy brown hair. “If your hair looks like this when you brush it,” intoned the voiceover, “then you need to watch this video.”

Oh goodness, I thought. My hair does look like that when I brush it! I kept watching.

“You may not realise it,” the voiceover continued, “but if your hair is frizzy when you brush it, you have curly hair!”

I rolled my eyes. Of course I realised!

“And with the right routine,” the voiceover concluded triumphantly, “your curls can look like this!” The image changed to a mass of perfect, silky ringlets. Now I sat up and took note.

Until that point, I’d been content with my hair. I’d wash it, condition it, bung in some mousse and leave it to dry. Sure, it looked a bit messy. And yes, it was often frizzy. But hey, that’s curly hair.

But suddenly I understood that my hair could be much better. More importantly, I realised my hair should be better. Why go into the world with unruly tangles when I could have a crown of defined curls? I would listen to the voiceover! I would follow the advice! I would discover the new, curlier me!

And with that, I took my first step in what would become a long and expensive hair journey. (Yes, “hair journey” is literally the term. And yes, it’s also a hashtag.)

It began innocently enough. I watched a few videos and bought a couple of products and tried them. I encouraged my hair to form “juicy clumps” – big, defined curls that are, apparently, very aspirational. Until then, I hadn’t even known “juicy clumps” were a thing, but suddenly they became very important.

I didn’t quite achieve juicy clumps, but my curls were a little more defined. And if they could be improved with a little bit of effort, I reasoned, then maybe a big effort would improve them even more.

I learnt all the curly-hair buzzwords, like “plopping” and “squishing” and “co-washing” and “gel cast”.

KERRI SACKVILLE

And with that I fell down an Instagram rabbit hole. I watched countless videos, all featuring women who looked like they’d stepped out of shampoo ads. I learnt all the curly-hair buzzwords, like “plopping” and “squishing” and “co-washing” and “gel cast”. I studied different curl patterns, helpfully labelled with numbers and letters, and tried earnestly to figure out my own. (I think I’m probably a 2c with hints of 3a, though I’m still not entirely clear why it even matters.)

And I bought products, so many products, trying to find my ‘holy grail’ – the one that consistently delivers brilliant results.

I tried four gels, two mousses and three leave-in conditioners. Some worked better than others, but none gave me Influencer ringlets, or even reliably good hair, and several of the purchases were a complete waste of money. I bought a hair oil that flattened my hair to my head, and salon-grade shampoo that seemed no different to the supermarket brands. I even purchased a diffusing hair-dryer that promised to banish frizz as it dried, but it literally burst into flames on very first use, which did nothing for my curls.

My 16-year-old daughter was deeply supportive of my hair journey, not because she cares about my hair, but because she inherited all of my tried-and-discarded products. She jumped on the half-empty bottles and tubs and, perplexingly, was soon parading around with fabulous ringlets.

I, on the other hand, never experienced the transformation I was promised. Even on my best hair days, after I’ve faithfully followed the Influencer’s instructions, nobody notices the difference. And maddeningly, no matter which products I use, my curls only ever last until bedtime. The moment I lay my head on a pillow (one covered by a satin pillowcase, as recommended by the bloody Influencers), they revert to their usual frizz.

Finally, as all quests do, mine came to an end. Just the other day I came across a photo of myself at 14. I had a shoulder-length layered haircut, and my hair was curling beautifully around my face. It was completely natural; I didn’t discover gel until I was 16, and even then only used it on my fringe. My youthful curls looked better with no product at all than mine do now after a seven-step routine.

Get the best of Sunday Life magazine delivered to your inbox every Sunday morning. Sign up here for our free newsletter.