At my blondest best

“Hi love, welcome to the chaos!” I step out of the elevator (the pinnacle of sexy) into Leco's living room. A vacuum cleaner is roaring, his regular cleaner waves at me, a guy is hanging the camera in the elevator, and Heidi is there, the woman who has been taking care of the most beautiful curtains and cushions for as long as I have known Leco.

“You just sit down for a bit,” says the maestro. He dives into his “medicine cabinet,” mixes some secret formulas together, and critically runs his hands through my hair. With Leco, it can go in any direction. Luckily, he is pleased. My hair is long and thick, a masterpiece. “But I’m done with that regrowth look.” Luckily, I was too, so off we went. On our way to bring out my inner blonde even more.

I was simmering a bit with my L’Oréal Professionnel hair dye (Leco made a mix of platinum for the bleach with Inoa 9.2 and Toner 10.21 from Dia Light, for me it’s all abracadabra but it’s beautiful, I can tell you) and chatted a bit with my hair friend. That’s the nice thing about Leco, who also throws in a few life wisdoms while coloring and cutting. And a few jokes.

When the foil comes off, the cleaner waves goodbye. The camera is hanging and the technician has left silently. Now there’s a new guest. The gentleman from MC Bloom from Beethovenstraat. He comes to refresh the flowers and puts the most beautiful bouquet of peonies on the table. The balcony doors are open, we look out over the bridge to the Hilton, the flowers smell, and I am at my blondest best again.

I won’t say that the world has become better in the past hour. But more beautiful, it certainly is.