A history of hairbrushes

8 02 2014

It’s normal to have an emotional attachment to your hairbrush, right? (OK, I’m mainly talking to the women here.)

I can tell you all about my hairbrush I had through my childhood, it lasted me years. It was purple, and had white bristles that always made my hair static. It got through all the difficult bits and left my hair lovely. I was so sad the day (probably late teens?) I dropped it, it hit something, and the handle snapped off from the bristle section (impressive as it was one solid piece of plastic!)

After this I went through a period of switching around a bit, it took me quite a while to find a replacement. I tried a wooden brush where the head was sort of rounded, but we never really hit it off. I went through a couple of others before landing on my latest one.

The hairbrush I’ve had for the last few years again had a solid handle, was pink, and not bristly with pink bobbles on the spokes. Over the years, the bobbles have slowly gone, but yesterday was it’s dying day.

As you may or may not have already spotted, I sprayed my hair bright red yesterday. As it was essentially a red hairspray, when I got home I brushed it all through, and really that was it. The brush has lost nearly all it’s bobbles, and even though I’ve washed it in steaming hot water for ages, it’s still so so red I can’t put it back through my hair.

Today it’s time to start the search for my next hairbrush as I’ve not been able to brush my hair since I washed it last night. I don’t know if I’ll find it right away, or if I’ll have to try hunting around again, but goodness me – I never really realised how much I bond with a hairbrush!

And on that note…