Shawn

'I'm a simple girl, easy going' I said once to M when we first got (back) together. He repeats this to me now with a snigger in his voice and I realise that whilst he's referring to a different kind of maintenance, the fact is that I do need regular upkeep. In London, a six week trim with Michael and highlights (you mean that it wasn't natural?!) with Hong, and regular visits to the gorgeous Kristy, kept me mowed and sanded, despite my Birkenstock and lack of slap. Six months down the line, the breakdown in my maintenance programme is beginning to show around the edges.

Tokyo has more hairdressers than any place on earth. I don't know if this is a fact but I cannot imagine anywhere having more - they are there on every corner, on every floor, at any time of day or night. Tokyo-ites flick gleaming locks and I am the only one I know who doesn't blow dry or who scrunches her hair up in a knot permanently. Kate Moss may sport the dirty blonde lock-chick roots, but she ain't here and I'm single handedly doing it for her. I have no excuse other than fear. Fear of bleach in the hands of a raven haired nation. And the fear is strong and has rendered me to a look that M described as 'Camilla Parker Bowles'.

There is something about being a foreigner that makes you feel immune, like your not part of society and therefore doesn't really matter what you look like. Rightly or wrongly, despite being in the most polished nation on earth, my standards had fallen and I was looking a right old state!

Last weekend I met Mo, a friend of M's from Sydney and she gave me the courage, and the phone number, to book an appointment at Gold. This morning I met Vladimir who, having just got back from a night long karaoke session, sliced through my tresses with gay abandon (in more ways than one). Surprisingly, I didn't wince when large chunks of hair fell about my feet, repairing the damage of a summer of swimming and sunshine. The installing of layers has given me a new bounce. I left the salon looking in shop windows at a girl wearing boots and jeans and for once, I felt I looked like I fitted. I have bouncy, flicky, short hair like a Japanese girl.