Blown Away

Dyson not only want to hoover our homes. They also want to style our hair. We play with their latest tool: the Airwrap Styler.

- Georgie Bradley

I had your worst nightmare when I was a young’un. It left me a shadow and shell of my former self for months. I cried under the shower for weeks. I wish it was down to something more substantial – like heartache or a misplaced childhood cuddly bear that I couldn’t possibly part with – than the actual reason.

One night I was getting ready to go out-out (those days are numbered now) in a mad dash rush. I clambered out of the bath and zig-zagged on soapy water to my dressing table where my fractured hair dryer was laying sideways with blackened bits of uncommitted cellotape flicking off its torso.

Hurling my head upside down, a damp fountain of hair cascaded in front of me. I grabbed my clunking hair dryer, which was the weight of a fax machine, and proceeded to wave it in and around my hair in staccato movements with much bicep stamina.

Hold onto your hats: you can see where I am going with this.

All of a sudden, my hair was mercilessly seized by the wicked, wiry fan. Having the mirror in front of me to watch this unfold in quick slow motion added to the horror. The sound went from a hissing whir to a screech and crunch. I’d say a good five-centimetre width from a bulky strand of hair was annihilated. You know when you’re in so much shock you silent scream? That happened. How did I self-lacerate my bountiful mane?