ready for our closeup...

When the call came in recently that some photographers wanted to shoot our offices for a magazine, I did what any girl would do- get in the chair of my favorite stylist for the entire afternoon of the shoot and get glammed as much as possible. While sitting there being pampered with glosses and conditioners, treatments of all kinds, I had a sort of flash back to a hair experience not quite so pleasant, and I had to share it.

A few years back, a friend and I were in London on a girl’s trip full of shopping at Selfridge’s, perusing stacks of Liberty fabrics, and usually a few too many Guinness’. One day over a lunch family style at Wagamama (amazing noodle bar- must try it), my friend mentioned that she had found the Vidal Sassoon Academy, where all the best students of hair learn their trade. The best news is you could get cuts from these geniuses-in-the-making for pennies. We made appointments for the following day.

While waiting for our appointments, they make you fill out a short questionnaire, similar to the one you fill out as a new patient in a doctors office, but instead of family medical history and past procedures, they want to know of past procedures of another kind: how often do you color your hair, how often do you get it cut, styled, by whom, how much, and on and on. I never knew my hair had such a history. The final question asked how much freedom you will give the Vidal Sassoon student when cutting your hair. Will you let them go wild? I, of course, said no way, while my friend replied, why not?

She was the wiser, here. By not being daring, I was stuck with the beginners of hair school, just now learning to trim and blow dry for the very first time. My darling dresser didn’t speak a word of English and took an hour and half to blow dry my hair. I think she must of done it one strand at a time. I ended up with the worst haircut of my life, and it took hours. The whole ordeal was more than I could bare, and I more or less told her to wrap it up and relieve me of this misery.

My friend, on the other hand, emerged stunningly similar to Gweneth Paltrow in Sliding Doors, with a short, bleach blond bob of phenomenal proportions. Her willingness to walk on the wild side landed her a spot in the advanced class, where stylists learned advanced tricks of the trade, and even some experienced stylists return for new tips.

The moral of this story, my dear friends, is not “be daring” or “walk on the wild side”. It’s to pay big money for hair styles from people with licenses. So there.

But back to our photoshoot… we pulled it together and were able to hide the usual clutter of shoe boxes, crates of accessories, bolts and fabric, and all the other fun but completely messy things that normally cover Cerulean’s headquarters, and convey a sense of order we seldom see. The only pictures we have at present are sans staff, but see below to get a feel for the place that gets our creative juices flowing, the place where we bring items from all over the world straight to you! Happy shopping!