In the cult 2001 film, The Princess Diaries, there is a scene where the protagonist, Mia arrives for her makeover. A man named Paolo swiftly enters the room and declares he will turn her into a princess. Paolo and his assistants, Gretchen and Helga, pluck and preen and prod and snap reading glasses to transform the woman before them into royalty.
I have thought about this scene often over the last decade. Most recently I thought about it while sitting in a black leather chair at The Mane Space in Manly. For as long as I can remember, I have had locks not dissimilar to Mia’s (pre-glow up). Long, brown, frizzy. There is a nice wave present, but it has always been hidden underneath a layer of frizz. This hair has forced me to become a high-maintenance girlie—someone who spends hours in the bathroom with a straightening iron or curling tong and someone who has dreamt of simply walking off the beach and to the bar. And that is, perhaps, what motivated me to try a keratin treatment.