Amazon won't let me post my review of Jerome Russell's Punky Colour hair dye in Fire red. Something about vulgarity and to many words. So I thought, fuck it I have a blog. Here is my unpublished Amazon review in its entirety.
I'm only rating this three stars because I know that this product works
for other people. I have seen their gorgeous, alternative movie star
hair glistening in the sun and mocking me with their ability to hold
fast onto even the shittiest of semi permanent hair dyes. I have a
friend who used Punky Colour's Alpine Green over dark brown hair with
blue dye in it without bleaching first. It came out exactly like the
website's hair model and never washed out. It was beautiful and amazing
looking. I'm still not sure how she did it but I'm certain Satan has
one more soul to add to his growing collection.
This, however, was not to be my hair fate and the story I am about to relay is a case of Caveat Emptor.
woke up somewhat early for me, being as I work the night shift at my
job. Miraculously there were no siblings or parents stumbling about the
house. The only creatures that were inhabiting my house were my two dogs
and I. I had a quiet and peaceful lunch, danced around like a silly
goof to some Die Antwoord, and sipped some tea while watching Tales From
The Crypt. To slightly paraphrase Ron White, 'It was a good day,
As the episode ended and Wil Wheaton's frat buddies got
eaten by some ghoulish sorority sisters dressed like Kelly Bundy I
thought, 'Hey! Why not dye my hair today?' I went upstairs and brushed
out my curls. I rubbed a thin layer of Vaseline around my hairline and
all over my ears. I snapped on my latex gloves and unscrewed the tops of
the hair dye. It smelled like perfume and looked like blood. I was in
heaven and my head smelled like fruit salad. So far, so good. The bottle
said it would most likely only have a highlight effect on dark hair.
With my friend's prior experience and the fact that my half ginger hair
was blond at the overgrown roots, I was certain my experience would be
nothing short of spectacular.
After cleaning up what little
splotches there were in the bathroom (which came up really easily) and
throwing away my gloves, I sat on my bed and passed the thirty minutes
by watching some TV. Halfway through my parents and siblings came back. I
couldn't wait to show my sister as she helped me pick out the color.
With my waiting time up I made my way to the bathroom, stopping
momentarily to let my sister smell my head. We both agreed that this dye
would make an awesome body spray.
I hopped into the shower and
began rinsing out the dye. After a minute or two I opened my eyes to see
how much more was in my hair......and oh Gods......no. No....no, no, no,
no, no, pink....pink, why was everything pink? Did I buy the right color?
Oh I know I bought the right color. That shit said fire on it and was
as red as coagulated blood. So why was everything pink? And not just any
pink, but bright Hawaiian Punch Lemon Berry Squeeze pink. I looked
around in wide eyed disbelief. It looked like I had seduced the Koolaide
man into joining me in the shower and then bludgeoned him to death. My
hands were now stained from simply washing my hair. I quickly washed
whatever else was left in my hair and hopped out into my towel.
was in my towel that I spent the next 30 minutes scrubbing the tub
bottom and walls with a rag trying desperately to hide my pink colored
shame. In the back of my head I could hear Lady MacBeth's famous lament,
'Out, damned spot! Out I say!' I don't know what that bitch was so
worried about. All she had was murderous blood on her hands (spoiler
alert?), I was covered head to toe in blotches and streaks of Jerome
Russell Punky Colour in "Fire". I stood up and looked at the still pink
tub. I had gotten a good 75-80 percent of it from just elbow grease and
scrubbing alone. I looked down at the green bath mat, oh great, pink
foot prints. I may be in my 20's but I was damn certain my mom was going
to beat me with a broomstick.
I turned to face the mirror and
finally see my hair for the first time since this ordeal began. I
reached out with my hand to wipe the fog away, my inner mantra chanting,
'Just let it be worth all this, just let it be worth it.' I cleared the
mirror and.....oh you have got to be shitting me! Not one goddamn hair
on my fucking head was dyed. My now pinky blond roots shed tears of
mirth as they laughed at me. The rest of my head was the same color red
as before just a bit brighter. My ears, neck and shoulders were a
different story. Half of my face was dyed in the style of the Phantom Of
The Opera if he were based out of San Francisco. My stomach is pink
and for some reason my back has a pink splotch that looks like a fucking
cape. I can only imagine it's from where my hair laid on my back as I
Curiosity fulfilled and annoyance rising, I gathered
up my discarded clothing and now pink rags and threw them into the
hamper before scurrying to my room. My mom was actually OK with the pink
tub. Most likely because she hasn't noticed the bath mat yet, the rest
of the dye actually came off the tub quite easily with some spray on
cleaning stuff she has in the hall closet, and I had to resort to using a
kitchen scouring sponge in the shower to get some of the dye off me.
Now I'm still pink, though not as much as before and clothing hides the
rest, and she won't quit reminding me that I look like an Oompa Loompa
despite the fact that they were orange.
everything but me and stains tubs very easily. Some cleaner and elbow
grease will help. However I know this has worked better for other people
so I'm giving it three stars. Just because I had a shitty time doesn't
mean you will too. I would do the smart thing and do a strand test first
to see how it interacts with your hair and not just go all gung ho on