This afternoon I stopped at a friend's house. She was baking a plum cake that had bubbled over in the oven, filling up the apartment with smoke. Now, at home, my hair smells like a combination of campfire and burnt sugar. I love it when my hair holds on to scents like that, when I'm building a fire or burning incense, the way it carries the smell of whatever room I was in last, my boyfriend's pillow, my perfume, my shampoo.
I am painfully, fiercly attached to my long hair, to the point where I find myself secretly resenting people who even suggest that they chop off their gorgeous manes (even though I'll admit that sometimes they do look better...or at least just as pretty as before.) I wore a much shorter style during my first couple years at college, but these days it's been a mighty long time since I cut anything besides my bangs and a few layers here and there.
Oh that's what it is--my hair smells like roasting marshmallows! Man, what could be better than that?
(please click photos for sources!)
