Loving Leco

As you probably already know, I’m in Italy. With my entire clan, and since I seem to have produced blonde little ladies, we are greeted at every establishment with: “Che meraviglia, sono me-ra-vi-glio-se”, “Che belle bionde bimbe” “complimenti” and other flattering things. Wait till they break the place down, because although they may look like little princesses, their behaviour is not always fitting.

I was a brunette

Blonde hair seems to score well on the Italian-child barometer. I keep hearing myself saying how exceptional it is that I ended up with such intensely blonde daughters while I am quite dark. Then I stop myself mid sentence. I was a brunette, but now I’m a blonde. Thanks to Leco, who has been begging me to go lighter for a while now. Looks younger, softer, hipper. I must admit, he is right and he coloured me in such a way, that I still feel like May.

Doctor Leco

I stopped by Doctor Leco just before my trip to the secret filming location of Holland’s Next Top Model. My hair was leaning towards red. “You probably haven’t been using the Kérastase Silver Shine shampoo?” his crystal clear analysis. Eh, no. I have been using the Kérastase Reflection Bain Chroma Riche though. “No, no, no you have to use the silver shine,” according to the doctor’s prescription. He dived into his cupboard full of pots and bottles, looking like the best dressed and most amusing science teacher ever. It’s an art, colouring hair well. A balayage technique on top, ash underneath, 15 mins of pleasure on his heavenly massage chair, one cup of green tea later and I walked out the door as the perfect blonde.

From their mother

So if another Italian granny pays us a wave of compliments, I’m going to take it in my stride, with a nonchalant L’Oréal flick of the hair and say, yes they got it from their mother. And from Leco van Zadelhoff of course.