Losing hair can equal losing one’s confidence, but thankfully there are treatments to battle it
Photograph by Annie Collinge
I was born with so much hair that, rather than congratulating my American mother on her excellent baby, the nurse pointedly said, “Is your husband British?” It was the late 70s and my dad’s favourite thing, as they pushed me in my pram, was to comment loudly when we passed a bald baby. Maybe it’s because he was a dick to other people’s infants that the hair at my parting has started to thin. Logic would dictate that it’s perimenopause and my guess is (unless you’ve recently had a child, which can also trigger female hair loss) the same goes for you. I’d suspected it was happening, but it wasn’t until I saw a photo of myself signing books under the cruel lights of a Waterloo station bookshop that I had my Truman Show moment (understanding there was a menopause world beyond the wall).
Before my train left, I’d ordered Renewed Density Healthy Hair Capsules from Beautypie. Arriving home, I fitted a Hello Klean shower head to combat breakage-inducing hard water. I never brush because you’re not “supposed” to brush curls, but you have to stimulate your scalp to encourage hair growth, so I started brushing at night with Charlotte Mensah’s terrific paddle brush. The Ful.Vic shampoo and conditioner from Victoria Health addresses shedding and, from the first wash, definitely made my hair look fuller (as recommended by no less a good-hair-midlifer than Nigella).
I’m a 70s baby and I’m not afraid of frizz if it fills in the gaps in my hairline
If it’s really bothering you and you have the funds, consider Halo, a scientifically supported stem cell rejuvenation course I tried at Le Petit Saint clinic in London. It began with a vacuum of my scalp with a mini-suction device (incredibly relaxing). The data shows a debris-free scalp allows follicles to break through more easily. Two weeks later, my scalp was needled, before an application of stem-cell serum from Calecim. You can use Calecim’s home needling system, and people do get very good results with it, but I appreciate being overseen by someone more methodical than myself in an environment far lovelier than my own. Scalp dermatologists are popping up all across the UK offering their own version of Halo, but the needling is invasive, so read consumer reviews carefully.
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A cheaper plan: Phil Smith haircare, with skincare inspired ingredients – hyaluronic acid, salicylic acid and vegan collagen – is stupidly inexpensive from Tesco and his clarifying range gets your scalp ultra-clean and locks feeling revitalised. Amika make an awesome overnight repair mask called Midnight Mender. With hair fragility, it’s counterintuitively valuable to have regular haircuts. I get mine done at a curl specialist and here I have a thinning-hair advantage – my hair volumises. The beauty industry may think I want “sleek”, but I’m a 70s baby and I’m not afraid of frizz if it fills in the gaps. I could tell you to try a new style to offset the change in your hair, but the heart wants what it wants.
Feeling pleased with the improvements to my middle-aged hairline, I visit my parents. It must provoke a memory of how this all started as, perambulating their local park, Dad is emboldened to point out a baby and say, in a voice weaker than I remember: “Ha! Kojak!”
On my radar… A serum, scent and mascara to turn heads
Balancing act A product to help you achieve symmetry is a tough sell for me as I love looking at faces that lean asymmetrical (Ellen Barkin, Julia Garner, Pam Grier, for example). But this facial oil smells wonderful and the guided massage felt great. My jaw and cheekbones were looking noticeably sharp after using as instructed. Dermalogica Neurotouch Symmetry Serum, £139 (30ml), dermalogica.co.uk
Self love I don’t know what higher praise there can be for any scent than ‘It made me fall a bit in love with myself.’ This fragrance has Bulgarian and Turkish roses at its heart, with notes of amber, African orange flower and Madagascan vanilla. Do you remember when you were a kid and used to practise kissing on your wrist or shoulder? Spun out by Impadia, I caught myself doing just that. Impadia, £181 (100ml), bdkparfums.com
Bright eyes Rum’s anti-smudge mascara has far more flexibility and drama than the average tubing mascara. For each one sold, £1 goes to UK charity Beauty Banks, supporting people living in hygiene poverty. I love their elegant midnight navy, which brightens tired eyes, making my brown eyes pop (in an appealing way, not like in the Beetlejuice waiting room). Rum Wrap Party tubing mascara, £22, wearerum.co.uk
Editor’s note: our recommendations are chosen independently by our journalists. The Observer may earn a small commission if a reader clicks a link and purchases a recommended product. This revenue helps support Observer journalism.
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