In Defense of Hair Extensions


No matter how hard I try, my hair just NEVER seems to grow! So, yep, you guessed it. I resort to hair extensions.

You guys, I need to admit something to you: I have MAY-jor long hair envy. I covet Kim Kardashian's long flowing locks. I'd die for Lauren Conrad's perfect middle part and effortlessly swept strands. I pretty much want to be Rosie Huntington-Whiteley. (Okay, well, not just for her hair. Let's be honest.)

If you're thinking, "Well Schall (Did I mention you can call me Schall?), why don't you just grow it out?" That's the problem. I can't. No matter how hard I try, how many haircuts I get, how many vitamins I take, how many hair products I use, my hair just stops growing once it hits my shoulders. It's terrible, torturous even, that I must sit here all day writing about celebs whose hair I'd kill to have.

My solution before moving to NYC was simple: Hair extensions. The obsession started back in high school, just a few weeks before my junior prom. Jealous of the girls who could wear their hair in gorgeous loose curls, I made it my mission to get the look. After hours upon hours of searching for a salon in St. Charles, MO that would add inches to my 'do (There were slim pickins in the suburbs), I finally found one.

$400 and 4.5 hours of sitting through misery later—mission accomplished.


Behold: Long blonde curls for my junior prom.

That's when the addiction began. Despite the slight discomfort when shampooing and the awkward bump beneath my heap of hair where the extensions were sewn in—Which bee-tee-dubs does NOT make for good making out hair (boys are apparently scared by that)—I still wanted more. More and more and more hair! So I got them again for my senior pics, duh.


Please, please don't laugh at my tattered jeans. High school. Oy.

By college, I got a little smarter. I learned how to blend them better (um, thank goodness!) and I found out that when most of your money goes to food and booze (Mom and Dad if you're reading this, I mean studying...) you can't really afford $400 extensions every three weeks. Enter, clip-in hair extensions. These ones from Sally Beauty to be exact.

For every momentous occassion onward, I could just slip them in whenever I wanted and ta-da! Super-thick, full amazing hair.

Sorority parties:


Touseled side ponies galore.

Birthday celebrations:


Yes, I brought my clip-in extensions with me to my colorist every time I'd dye my hair.

Even college graduation:


I would have looked totally BALD without them. I swear :(

So now, as you've seen, I pretty much love long hair—specifically my extensions.

Cue my first week of living in New York. As I planned out my outfit for my first big girl job interview, I mentioned to my friend that I wanted to wear clip-ins. "NOOOO!" she cried. "Don't do it! NOBODY in New York wears hair extensions."

Shwaaa?! Panic ensued. How could I ever snag a gig in the city if I wasn't confident about my tresses? Obvi, somehow I did, but I was forever scarred. For fear of being cast off as a Jersey Shore wannabe, (not exactly the thing you want to be known for in the fashion industry...) I tucked my extensions away in my closet, never to be seen again.

For the past year they've gathered dust, and I've mourned the loss of my higher-than-heaven hair. Then, this weekend, as I was getting my hair blown out among girls with stunning strands, I wondered: Why shouldn't I wear my hair as I please?

So here it goes: Can we all (New Yorkers, I'm looking at you) vow to stop hating on hair extensions? Not all of us can be blessed with bountiful, beautiful hair. Let those of us with thin, super-fine locks cash in on never-ending fishtail braids and long waves that go for days.

Am I alone on this one? Do any of you wear hair extensions—for the same reason as me or otherwise? Are you against the look and think I should just be happy to have hair? Sound off below in the comments!

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