Her luxuriant hair--it was like the sweep of a swift wing in
visions.--_Willis._
Pretty hair can redeem a whole host of irregular features. With little
waves and kinks, and clinging, cunning tendrils that lie close to the
temples, a "crown of glory" will transform an ordinarily plain woman
into one passably good to look upon. If you doubt this, just create a
mental picture of yourself in the last stages of a shampoo! Isn't it
awful? The damp, straight locks hanging in one's eyes, and the long,
fluffy strands, that aren't fluffy at all but as unwavy as a shower
bouquet of macaroni, and the tag ends and whisps sprouting out here and
there like a box full of paint brushes six ways for Sundays--well, one
is always mentally thankful at such times that one's "dearest and best"
isn't anywhere around to behold the horrible sight. But after awhile
the long, damp tresses are patted and fussed over until they are dry,
and then they're combed out and curled up and kinked and twisted, and,
oh, my countrymen, what a change is there! The harsh lines of the mouth
are softened, the eyes look bright and pretty, the complexion comes out
in all its sweetness like the glorious rainbow of a week ago.
It makes all the difference in the world!
But of course you will straightway exclaim: "That's all right to say
about those lucky girls who have nice long tresses, but how about us
poor mortals whose 'crown' consists of eighteen hairs of eighteen
different lengths, and all of them falling out as fast as they can?" To
be sure, conditions do--once in a while--alter cases. But I claim, and
always will claim--till the day comes when beauty matters won't matter
at all--that every woman can have pretty hair if she will take the time
and use the good, uncommon sense which seems necessary to acquire it.
You know, and I know, and every other woman knows, that women treat
their hair as they treat their watches--to unpardonable abuse. Of
course, one's hair isn't dropped on the sidewalk or prodded with
stickpins until the mainspring breaks, but it is subjected to even
deeper and more trying insults. One night, when the little woman is in
a real good, amiable mood, the tresses are carefully taken down,
brushed, doctored with a nice "smelly" tonic, patted caressingly and
gently plaited in nice little braids. The next night it is crimped
until each individual hair has acute curvature of the spine; then it is
burned off in chunks and triangles and squares; it is yanked out by the
handfuls, it is wadded and twisted and tugged at and built up into an
Eiffel tower, and--after a few hours of such torture--the little woman
takes out the sixty odd hairpins, shakes it loose, gets every hair into
a three-ply tangle of its own, and then hops into bed! When she gets up
in the morning she pulls out and combs out more hair than she can make
grow in after seven months' careful treatment.
I tell you that is the one great trouble with women. They will not
stick to one particular method. If they feel like fussing and coddling
they will, but if they're tired or cross or in a hurry to get to sleep,
well, they just let their hair take care of itself. One's tresses need
regular care just as do plants or babies or people. Make up your mind
that you have hit upon the best way to treat your hair and then stick
to it, no matter whether school keeps or not.
To disentangle the hair use only a coarse comb, being sure that every
tooth is smooth and firm, so that it will not tear or split the silky
fibers. The fine comb is a thing of horror, and has no place upon the
dressing-table. It irritates the scalp, bringing forth a prosperity
year crop of dandruff and attendant unhappiness. Added to this, it
splits the hair shafts and injures the roots.
Brushing the hair is sadly overestimated. A dozen or two strong strokes
each night will remove the day's dust and dirt, will promote
circulation and sweep out flaky matter. The brushing must be done
firmly but gently, and not with the violent methods of a carpet
sweeping machine. Really, it is simply appalling the way some women
dress their hair. A few tugs and yanks with a comb of uneven, unsmooth
teeth, a scattering brushing back of scolding locks, some singes here
and there with a red-hot curling iron, a twist, a roll, a pat and the
application of a dozen hairpins, and the hairdressing for the day is
done.
Instead, the comb should be used with gentleness, not dug into the
scalp, as is the practice of some mistaken beskirted mortals. There is
an old saying to this effect: "Wash the scalp, but not the hair; comb
the hair, but not the scalp," which saying, I leave to you, is good
enough to paste in one's hat--or rather on the back of one's hair
brush.
After the brushing each night it is an excellent plan to part the hair
into small strands and wipe off with a cloth slightly moistened. This
is a sort of sponge bath which tones and invigorates the growth.
Combs should never be washed, but cleaned with a stout thread. Brushes,
however, must have frequent washings in warm ammonia water, taking care
to keep the backs dry. They should never be put in the sunlight when
wet, but left to dry in an open window.
Curling irons certainly do heaps of damage. Any woman who has ever
found herself suddenly bereft of a nice fluffy bang, and in its place a
stubby little burned-off fringe, will say that this is true, while
those numerous hair-crimping girls who have known the humiliating and
painful experience of having a hot curling iron do frolics down their
backs can add startling testimony, and, what is more, show disfiguring
scars as proof.
If the iron is used carefully and at proper heat, the hair is not
injured. But certain it is that when the iron is smoking-hot it kills
the life and lovely texture of the hair. Besides, how very ugly and
unkempt those burned little ends look! It was surely not of such that
Pope wrote:
Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare,
And beauty draws us with a single hair.
Soft papers in which the short locks are wound is a good method for the
girl who singes her top-knot every time she tries to curl a few little
tendrils. Kid curlers are all right, providing the hair does not become
entangled in the small ends, and so have to be torn when the hair is
taken down. There is a certain secret in the hair-curling process which
is too intangible for written description. The hair must not be wound
tightly and the effect must be loose, fluffy and natural.
The great necessity for keeping the hair perfectly trimmed is to rid it
of the split ends, for hair cannot be nice under such conditions. When
the nourishment within each hair shaft does not extend the full length,
then the hair cracks into several finer hairs, and one of these perhaps
resumes the growth. That leaves a rough, bad shaft. The best way to
keep the hair clipped properly is to twist it in rolls and to singe off
all the little ends that stick out.
It is almost impossible to state positively how often the hair should
be shampooed. Oily hair needs a thorough washing every two weeks, while
drier tresses should not be given a bath oftener than once a month.
Half the reason for falling hair, or hair that seems never to grow, is
caused by improper shampooing. The scalp must be kept scrupulously
clean. And I doubt very much whether the soap and soiled water can be
thoroughly rinsed out without the use of running water, the bath spray
being the most convenient means of getting this. How often, after
washing one's hair, one finds a white, sticky substance clinging to the
teeth of the comb! This should never be, and the hair must be
continually washed until it is fluffy and soft and absolutely without
any suggestion of the shampoo. When the hair is very oily a
dessertspoonful of ammonia and a pinch of borax should be added to two
quarts of warm water. This will soften the water and make the soap more
easily rinsed out of the hair. The liquid verbena soap makes a
delightful shampoo. Recipe can be found at the end of this chapter.
When shampooing, rub the lather through the strands gently, and with
the finger tips remove all the little particles of dust and dandruff
which may be clinging to the scalp. And may I gently suggest that you
do not go at the task as if you were scrubbing a grease spot out of a
rug? You must neither dig the scalp with your nails nor wring out your
hair as you would a wash-rag. Try not to get your hair into a more
mussed-up and tangled condition than is absolutely necessary. After
using the bath spray liberally dry with warm towels, then--if
possible--get some one to vigorously massage the scalp. This will
almost invariably prevent one from taking cold. Never begin combing out
your locks until they are nearly dry. A sun bath of twenty minutes is a
good tonic.
Occasionally an egg shampoo is more beneficial than the usual one of
soap. This is especially true when one has just recovered from a fever
or when one's scalp is in an unhealthy condition or afflicted with
dandruff. The rosemary formula is very effective.
Dandruff is nearly always the result of neglect. If the scalp is washed
as frequently as it should be, dandruff is not so likely to accumulate,
although it is a perfectly natural formation. When the hair is
excessively oily or the scalp unusually crowded with dandruff, the
weekly shampoo should not be neglected.
Blond hair should always be washed with the yolk of an egg, as that
will make it keep its golden tints. Mixing the egg with a pinch of
borax and a pint of warm water is a good plan.
Hair dyeing is one of the mistakes of unwise femininity. All dyes
containing either mercury or lead are very dangerous. But why should
women dye their hair? Goodness only knows. One might as well ask why
women fib about their age, or why women shop three hours just to buy a
pair of dress shields. There are some questions of life which we are
destined never to solve. There is nothing lovelier than white hair.
Combine with it a fine complexion and a pair of animated brown eyes and
you have as picturesque a beauty as ever awakened emotions in the heart
of man. But, nevertheless, women moan and wail over every stray gray
hair. They go off downtown and proceed to lug home a cartload of
mysterious bottles which they keep religiously away from hubby's
investigating eye. I won't tell the result of the experience, for it is
too well known. It is a certain episode through which half the women of
forty years have passed--sooner or later. When comes the desire to
transform those little threads of silver into deeper shades remember
the charming lines of Bancroft:
"By common consent gray hairs are a crown of glory, the only object
of respect that can never excite envy."
Unknown washes, as well as dyes, do great mischief. Good health,
wholesome food and proper care of the scalp are the three most
important essentials toward beautiful and luxuriant hair. There are
some simple lotions, harmless and easily prepared, which will assist
the growth and nourish the roots.