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I Won't Apologise For Obsessively Using: The Argan Oil Edition

I Won't Apologise For Obsessively Using: The Argan Oil Edition

That's right Argan Oil. I knew nothing about Argan Oil until about a year ago when one of my friends with effortlessly frizz free Keri Russell curls was applying some casually to the tips of her hair right in front of me like it was no big deal. Fact: It was a big deal. It smelt kind of exotic and left her hair with a high shine gloss. I was jealous and demanded to know what this secret serum was. She nonchalantly flicked back her hair like an overpaid model in a Pantene Pro-V ad and said over her shoulder that this magical elixir was Argan Oil.

Coming from European ancestry traditionally oil is not something I would lather my hair in. A drizzle on a tomato, totally. Heck, I would even jagerbomb it if you paid me say, a $1.00. Basically I have an anti-aversion to olive oil. I LOVE it. My daily consumption of oil is so high that I'm pretty sure that my pores sweat olive oil (don't worry I have learned to manage this condition over the years). However, willingly putting oil in my hair was a no-go for me. If I find it difficult rinsing oil out of a pastry brush, then one can only imagine the emotional duress I would find myself in trying to wash oil out of my scalp.

However, I was in a position with nothing to lose, because when you live daily with an orbit of frizz circulating your existence you will try anything at least once. And the next thing you know the Corso siblings added Argan Oil to their bathroom product line up.

The application process was a little daunting at first. The back of the bottle cautioned to only add a 'few drops' of the serum to the palm of your hand and then massage it into your scalp. And by a few drops it literally meant the same meager amount that trickles out of an aromatherapy essential oil bottle. Was I skeptical that there was less liquid in the palm of my hand that not even an ant could float across it on a pint-sized banana lounge, but at the same time believe there was allegedly enough to promise me a new frizz free life? Sure. Though as I am not one to oppose authority, even if that authoritative figure presents itself as an innocuous directions label, I obeyed the call of its command.

A miracle happened that day, and has happened every day I have used Argan Oil since. My curls got Keri Russell-ed.

Admittedly not to her state of heightened perfection circa the Felicity era, but the change in appearance was dramatic enough for me to pay attention and never consider using anything else as part of my hair regime again.  In Broadway Disney terms I went FROM being cast as the lead role in a stage production of The Lion King due to my hair being so:

a) lusicous (see: mane-like)
b) financially economical as the costume department wouldn't. have. to. touch. a. thing.
c) and my calibre of frizz having an authenticity to it that mirrored the humid conditions of a vast and expansive African wasteland

TO being shunned from the lights of Broadway and recast as the understudy of a lion cub, and not even an important lion cub, one of the litter with no name – that's how well my hair started to behave after using Argan Oil. Not to mention depending on the amount of light ricocheting off my head at any given time there is the potential you could be momentarily blinded by my curls radiating, and for that I won’t apologise.


Illustration by Alice Oehr.

When Featherston got a re-boot and it was real good.

When Featherston got a re-boot and it was real good.

A 93-year-old photographer. He has a name too, it's Angus O'Callaghan.

A 93-year-old photographer. He has a name too, it's Angus O'Callaghan.