The Fringe

Am I jealous of someone with a fast car or a large house? Nope. I am jealous of someone who can carry off a fringe.

You see, it is because I can't. I have been battling with an ongoing desire to have the perfect fringe ever since I can remember, but the problem is,

my hair doesn't want to know.

I can still visualise sitting in the bathroom in the late 1970's, whilst my Mum tried to trim my Vosene washed fringe. "Sit still" she'd command as I would wriggle around dreading the scissor blades making their way towards my forehead again. She'd give up after a while and I'd have to live with a jagged fringe that would flap around until the next trim was due.

Things haven't gotten any better post-1970's to be honest. I've tried a fringe many times over the years, failing miserably each time. My hairdressers know this and I can see their faces fall each time I pluck up the courage to try again and ask for a fringe. Not the fringe chat again I can hear them think............

Diplomatically, they put their hand on my shoulder and try and talk me out of me. I, in turn, plead like a child begging their parents for a puppy, "I promise I'll look after it, I'll look after it every day". Like most parents know the novelty will wear off with a puppy, equally, my hairdressers know I will lose interest and I won't look after my fringe. So we often settle on a 'long fringe' with a centre parting, gives the experience, but with less management. Ok then - we have a deal!

I know it's the safest option and so do they. Even with this compromise, let's face it, a fringe, will never be same after I leave the salon doors and it will instantly become unruly that no hairbrush or product can control. It'll look horrendous when left to its own devices. There have been times when I've woken up and it looks like there are two Findus Crispy Pancakes hiding my temples. A fringe only leads to disappointment in the end.

It's not just me it seems. Many of my friends have a love-hate relationship with their fringes. When I see them, I complement them on their new fringe and they pretty much all say the same thing. "God no, I hate it! Just look at it, it won't stay put, I wish I never had it. Arrghh!"

So why do we have one if it causes so much stress? For one, it is supposed to make you look younger, I'm all for that. But also, like me, people see the Queens of Fringe and feeling inspired to follow suit. Some people just rock a fringe don't they? The first fringe-spiration I had was actually watching singer Aneka when she performed her hit 'Japanese Boy' in 1981, her blunt black and red wigged fringe looked amazing! Secondly, in 1982 when I saw Sally Ann Triplett, (one half of UK's Eurovision entry 'Bardo'), I thought, I want my hair like that! Off Mum and I went to the hairdresser to achieve this, but to no avail. Wavy hair doesn't like fringes it seems and it soon went to pot.

Other fringe owners that get a high-five from me are singers Sia, Saffron from Republica and Claire Richards from Steps. But the ultimate Fringe Queen has to be Claudia Winkleman.

Claudia's fringe is a work of art. Cut with precision, disciplined, so much so, it is her trademark, making her iconic, the cut that is out of reach. Does she have a Fringe-ologist in her attic solely employed to make it gleam, I wonder? In one of my 'fringe conversations' at the salon, I even referenced Claudia, my hairdresser drew her breath and I knew then that any fringe of mine could never reach the dizzy heights of Claudia's league. And that was that.

And so it continues. My friends and I remain ever conscious of our fringes, debating furiously during that thin window of opportunity you get when it reaches the cut it or grow it out stage. What do we do? Either way, you are doomed. Either decision has the potential to be filled with regret.

However, we are eternally optimistic that one day we'll have the ideal fringe, that's why we go to the salon time and time again with our requests.

At the end of the day, if Claudia can make it work, surely we can too, right?