Found! Clip-in fringe for redheads


clip-in fringe for redheads

I kinda hesitated to post these photos, because I’ve learned the hard way that any post about my hair tends to open the doors to a flood of unsolicited advice about said hair, which I am apparently NOT TO BE TRUSTED with myself, so let me just say straight-up that THIS IS A FAKE FRINGE, people. In other words, it is NOT A FRINGE. I did NOT GET A FRINGE. Underneath this (fake! Not real!) fringe, my hair is as long and lank as ever, and, in fact, has now grown out of the LAST fringe I had cut just enough to have fallen straight into the centre part it always adopts once it gets past a certain length. Lookit:

clip-in fringe

Fake fringe, real centre-part, weird lighting making my hair look a totally different colour

(Um, I also did not Photoshop the bottom of my hair in those photos: I took these with the remote, which isn’t great at capturing movement, hence the blur…)

(While we’re on the subject, I know the colour of these is totally jacked: first time taking photos in the new house, obviously not quite used to the different light yet. Maybe not ever, to be honest.)

So, I didn’t get a fringe, but I also DID get a fringe: a fake one, from eBay, which I purchased on impulse last week. I say “on impulse”: purchasing this £2.99 piece of synthetic ginger hair was actually the very last thing I did in our old house. Seriously: on that last day (which I didn’t KNOW was the last day), I sat down at my desk, ordered this, then walked out, never to return. THAT’s how under-prepared I was for the move. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to have it sent to the new address, but because of the complete chaos of moving, I totally forgot about it, so no one was more surprised than me when I walked into the new house the next day only to be presented with an envelope filled with what appeared to be my OWN HAIR.

“Terry!” I yelled, “Don’t bother unpacking the rest of the truck: the locals aren’t friendly!”

Once I’d realised what it was and marvelled over the super-fast shipping, I promptly slapped it on my head and went to try to convince my dad I’d chopped my hair off. He didn’t buy it, of course: I mean, that IS the kind of thing I’d do, granted, but the fringe was sitting a little oddly (Much as it is in that second photo, there: it’s just because I’d been flicking my head around a lot. As you do.), so it looked a lot like a wig. Which is what it is, now I come to think of it.

Despite this, I was quite pleased with it. You see, as some of you may remember, I’ve been having an ongoing flirtation with fringes for YEARS now: a flirtation which culminated in me deciding to cut one of my own a couple of years back. It didn’t end well. Well, I mean, OF COURSE not. Once I was over the initial shock, though, and the fringe had grown out a little, I decided I quite liked it, so I actually ended up having it cut back in a couple of times since then. As tends to be the case with me, though, I always want the hair I DON’T have, so when I have a fringe I want to have no-fringe, and when I DON’T have a fringe, I want one. And when I type the words “fringe” enough times, it starts to look really strange to me, like, is that even a word? FRINGEFRINGEFRINGE. BANGS. Anyway.

The obvious solution to this dilemma was to buy a clip-in. When you have red hair, though, you soon learn that the obvious solution is only obvious for blondes and brunettes, because the manufacturers of hair products don’t actually believe in red hair. Oh, there are a million and one different ways to be blonde, and there are a million and two different ways to be brunette, apparently, but according to the Great Gods of Hair Products, there are only two ways to be red, and neither of them are colours that occur in nature. I’ve ordered quite a few clip-in fringes over the past couple of years, and even sent one manufacturer lots of photos of my hair in different lights, to see if they could match it (“Er, no,” was the answer. Which is understandable, really, when you see how totally different the colour can look depending on the light.), but with no luck, so I’m not sure what it was that made me decide to give this one a shot. Probably the fact that it was cheap, and I was looking for something to distract me from moving.

Anyway, I had a good look at the colour chart and went for the shade described as “strawberry blonde”, which I colour-matched using the very scientific method of holding a strand of my hair up the monitor and comparing it to the swatch. (Yeah, don’t do that, by the way: colours on monitors often look nothing like colours in “real” life…) I thought the swatch looked lighter than my hair, but I figured I could always try some of my Superdrug Colour Effects on it if need be. Also, it was £2.99. I mean, really.

As it happens, the colour was pretty-much spot on: definitely the best match I’ve ever found with a fake-hair product. (Er, that makes it sound like I’m obsessed with fake hair: I’m not, but I do always go in to play with the extensions any time I walk past Sally’s…) Unsurprisingly, given the price, it’s not real hair, and you can tell it isn’t when the flash hits it:

clip-in fringe in red

In natural light, though, it looks much more, well, natural, and much less like a wig. It goes without saying, though, that I need to practice clipping it in a little more (It attaches to your hair with two little clips: super-easy, but you do need to artfully arrange the rest of your hair to make it look realistic. I just quickly put this on for the photos, and then I had the brilliant idea of whipping my hair, Willow Smith-style, so it ended up looking a bit… pouffy.), and I’m a little afraid to wear it in public (What if it blows off, and someone has to come and hand me back my HAIR? WHAT IF, people?), but like I said: £2.99, no biggie.

So, that’s the story of my clip-in fringe, and what an epic tale it was. If you’re a fellow redhead in need of a slightly-pouffy looking piece of fake hair to attach to your forehead, I bought mine from this eBay seller, who I can highly recommend.

And at least it’s better than the scissors, hey?