A few weeks ago, we put to rest the great hair debate “do gentlemen really prefer blondes?” But this week, I tackled an entirely different hair dating dilemma.
If you checked out a bar scene on any given night, there are two hairstyles a single woman will be working. The first, is a head of I-just-had-sex hair. The hope is that a mane of tousled waves and sultry curls will lure a man from across the bar. The second option is much simpler: less-fussy straight locks. The rise of straightening products can attest to the popularity of a salon-worthy d-i-y blowout.
These two popular on-the-prowl hairstyles got me wondering: which one is more likely to land the man?
On two separate nights last weekend, I stopped by NYC’s Arrojo Studio and had one fantastic stylist, Rachel Downing, work my hair into the perfect version of each man-hunting hairstyle. In the end, one coif truly conquered all.
On Friday night, I rocked long, straight hair. After dousing my ends with Arrojo’s Hydrating Mist, which my stylist told me “gives hair a nice drink,” Rachel slathered my strands in the salon’s own Straightening Serum. After pulling my roots taught with her fingers (“a brush works better on the ends, but you can use your fingers to get at the roots better”), my stylist blew out the rest of my hair with a bristly medium-sized flat brush. The result was a voluminous, sleek hairstyle with tons of sex appeal.
When one of my best girlfriends decided it was a night for the Meatpacking District, I took my straight locks to an underground dive bar with great music and a weekly reserve of eligible men. While the evening started with promise (my first two drinks were bought by a group of guys at a birthday party) the night ended without a solid prospect. Halfway through my turn on the dance floor, my hair that was once straight and sleek had become unruly with kinks, and the volume deflated.
I had higher hopes the next day when my stylist, Rachel, greeted me with a thorough hair washing (complete with euphoric scalp massage) and luxe-looking round brush. After a dollop of the Arrojo Cutler Volumizing Styling Whip, she began wrapping my hair around the brush by the bundle, and blasting the swirls of hair with heat from a blow dryer. My hair looked worthy of a Kardashian without the touch of a curling iron. But when I told Rachel that my style would have to last through the night (my appointment was at 3 pm), she grabbed an oversized iron and began setting my curls without clamping the ends. “The best curls come without the clamp,” she told me. “They won’t be so tight.”
My high-roller hair needed more room than a dive bar had to offer, so my friends agreed to hit a swanky uptown lounge. Within minutes there was a pack of guys descending on my posse. After a long conversation with Todd, a 6’1″cutie in head-to-toe black, I forced myself to cruise the bar for the good of the mission. It turned out Todd wasn’t the only man not impervious to my sultry waves. Besides nabbing a free drink from the bartender, who I didn’t see handing out freebees to anyone else thankyouverymuch, another collar-clad gent struck up a conversation. By the end of the night I had two new phone numbers, one potential date, way too many free drinks, and a new signature hairstyle.