Yesterday morning after I showered and washed my hair I decided to take Moe out for a walk. Forgoing my usual blow drying, I chose to walk him with a head of wet hair letting the air dry it.
Feeling the bright sun beat down on my bare head gently drying my hair, I was transported back to my days at summer sleep-away camp when my bunkmates and I would sit outside on the grass to let the sun dry our hair after shampooing it on the designated hair washing day.
Yes, hair washing was a designated one-hour activity.
Along with softball, field hockey, and archery, hair washing was a scheduled activity printed on the pink mimeographed schedule thumb-tacked to a bulletin board in the bunk.
Of course, this makes sense. This was a period when women would turn down dates saying “Sorry I’m washing my hair” it was an entire evening activity.
Vintage Breck Shampoo Advertisement
My bunk mates, would gather their plastic bottles of shampoos-golden Breck, pink Lustre cream, and green Prell and line up for the shower. ( The days of Herbal Essence and Balsam infused products were just a few years away) The popular girls from Great Neck with the perfect shiny hair and teeth always had Breck Crème Rinse too, considered a luxury item from the more middle-class suburbs I came from.
Hair blowers or dryers of any sort were forbidden in the camp so afterward we all gathered outside on a grassy area of the campus surrounding the faux rustic bunks, and let the sun dry our hair more effectively than that portable GE bonnet affair I was used to at home.
Spread out on the grass we used the time to read 16 Magazine, Archie comics, and wrote letters home to friends on flower power festooned stationary. While we sat outside, the camp “mother” an elderly woman with a graying bun and cat eyeglasses would go inside the bunk and wash our brushes for us laying them on the bunk railing to dry. Even the brushes offered a glimpse into privilege. My dowdy fuller hair brush co-mingled with the more rarefied Mason Pearsons.
As the hour drew to a close, it seemed as though most of the girls would walk away with their Breck perfect hair, while my baby fine locks would be just a mass of tangles.
But today when I returned home with Moe my newly dried hair looked just fine. Maybe it was the Moe factor