How your hair mirrors the highs and lows of your life: From cute curls to a thinning head of grey, one woman’s battles with her locks reveals all

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Hair, as we all know, is supposed to be a woman’s crowning glory. Joan Crawford, the ultimate screen goddess and diva, once opined that the most important thing in a woman’s life — next to her talent — is a good hairdresser.

Even Hillary Clinton knows the impact a ‘do’ can make: ‘If I want to knock a story off the front pages, I simply change my hair.’

My relationship with my hair has never been so clear-cut, however. Crowning glory, I’m afraid, it is not.

From curly-mopped toddler to hair-ironing teen, from disastrous perms to dramatic hair loss and a constant battle over several decades to cover the greys, my relationship with my hair has been like a bad marriage in the days before divorce was possible (Picture taken when Linda was aged 19 in 1971)

From curly-mopped toddler to hair-ironing teen, from disastrous perms to dramatic hair loss and a constant battle over several decades to cover the greys, my relationship with my hair has been like a bad marriage in the days before divorce was possible.

A life-long commitment to something I’ve longed to be shot of.

I’m not alone, of course. The complex emotional connection between women and their hair accounts for the fact that British women spend, on average, £40,000 on their hair over the course of their lives.

And that’s just at the hairdresser’s, taking no account of the fortunes forked out on shampoos, conditioners, colourants, mousses and volumisers for use at home.

One poll has concluded that adult women reckon on 156 bad hair days per year. They should consider themselves lucky. In my case, I’d double that.

If, when I was young, my hair had been thick, glossy, lustrous — adjectives that could never honestly be applied to my fine, wavy locks — might I have been more confident or made bolder decisions?

I’m sure I’d have been a better flirt — running my fingers seductively through my glossy mane over dinner, driving him wild with desire.

Would that have taken me down other avenues? Could it have led to wilder assignations? I’ll never know.

If, when I was young, my hair had been thick, glossy, lustrous — adjectives that could never honestly be applied to my fine, wavy locks — might I have been more confident or made bolder decisions? (Picture taken when Linda was aged 55 in 2007)

What I do know, however, is that today when I run my fingers through my hair over dinner with my partner, it’s invariably to lift the strands on my crown a bit, to cover up my encroaching bald patch (my hair started thinning in my 30s).

These are some of the thoughts that came to mind as I was wandering round Somerset House last week, where Sam McKnight, the man who has styled the hair for more than 190 international Vogue covers, as well as Princess Diana, Madonna and about every supermodel you can think of going back 40 years, is being celebrated in a new exhibition.

‘Hair doesn’t just change the way you look, it can change the way you feel, too. That is an amazing thing to be able to control,’ he says.

Well, he’s right about how a good hair day can make you feel fabulous about your entire being. It can also make you kinder and less grumpy.

Our hair is certainly so much more than its appearance suggests. I have come to realise that over the decades my hair and my life have been intimately entwined in ways that surprise me.

My hair has reflected the styles of the times to an extent, though it was always more about doing the best with what I had because my hair wasn’t very adaptable.

I could never have perfected the Farrah Fawcett ‘flick’ or Jennifer Aniston’s layered ‘Rachel’.

More significantly, though, as I’m sure is the case for so many women, in these pictures you can see my hair tells the story of my life…

AGED SEVEN: CURLS MADE ME A TARGET FOR SCHOOL BULLIES

As a child, I didn’t pay much attention to my curls. Neither did my mother if this picture is anything to go by

As a child, I didn’t pay much attention to my curls. Neither did my mother if this picture is anything to go by.

Chopped short for convenience with no particular style in mind, my hair didn’t bother me until one day in primary school, when I was about seven, when a little girl in my class told me my hair was ‘silly’.

She had straight blonde hair that she wore in a pony-tail.

After that I became conscious of every other little girl’s locks, too. Was I the only one with silly hair?

AGED 17: I TRIED TO IRON IT STRAIGHT

Once I became a trend-conscious teen, ‘silly’ hair was not to be countenanced. Long and straight was the only way to go and the time had come to beat my intransigent waves into submission with the help of a damp cloth and a hot iron

Once I became a trend-conscious teen, ‘silly’ hair was not to be countenanced. Long and straight was the only way to go and the time had come to beat my intransigent waves into submission with the help of a damp cloth and a hot iron.

At night I’d go to bed with metal clips down each edge of my curtained hair. In the morning I’d wake up with welts on my face from where the clips had dug into my flesh overnight.

After getting up early so I could flick up the ends with the help of curling tongs, I was ready to go.

AGED 19: BOYS RAN FROM FRIZZ

The biggest enemy of my hair was damp, not just from the weather, but the steamy atmosphere at the disco

The biggest enemy of my hair was damp, not just from the weather, but the steamy atmosphere at the disco. I’d enter sleek and straight and fancied myself a bit of a boy magnet as I was asked to dance. By the end of the evening invariably I was less popular.

Looking in the mirror when I went to the loo I put it down to the fact that my horrid hair, which had taken so long to get right, was now a far from fetching frizzy mess.

AGED 25: DIVORCE AND AN UTTERLY HIDEOUS PERM 

In my early 20s, I thought a shorter, messed-up look was more fitting to the days of hipster flares and cheesecloth shirts

In my early 20s, I thought a shorter, messed-up look was more fitting to the days of hipster flares and cheesecloth shirts.

I could manage this with a combination of finger-drying at the sides and a brush and blow dry on the fringe.

In 1978, when I was 26, my first marriage ended. I was changing my life, which meant changing my hair as well. Hence the hideous perm as I left my job to work as deputy editor at Company magazine.

I thought the perm would give my hair more definite form. I regretted it instantly.

Within a few months, I had a new boyfriend and a shorter, semi-cropped cut.

At 27 I noticed my first grey hairs. I may not have liked my hair, but I did like being a natural brunette. Not for much longer though.

AGED 36: PREGNANCY MADE MY HAIR BLOOM

I resorted to vegetable dyes in my 30s to cover up greys. Meeting a new man, becoming editor of Cosmopolitan and getting pregnant meant I had little time to worry about bad hair days

I resorted to vegetable dyes in my 30s to cover up greys. Meeting a new man, becoming editor of Cosmopolitan and getting pregnant meant I had little time to worry about bad hair days.

And then the pregnancy hormones kicked in. I had a fat belly and fat hair. I loved them both. I knew the extra hair would fall out after my son was born, but what I hadn’t expected was that it would continue to thin. A trichologist diagnosed male-pattern balding.

AGED 42: LOVED MY CAREER, HATED BY OVER-DYED BOB

After leaving Cosmo and relaunching She magazine — appropriately labelled as the magazine for women who juggle their lives, as I was doing myself — my hair continued to give me grief

Career high point, hair low point. After leaving Cosmo and relaunching She magazine — appropriately labelled as the magazine for women who juggle their lives, as I was doing myself — my hair continued to give me grief. The vegetable dyes were insufficient:, I needed a root touch-up every four weeks.

All-over tinting was turning my hair progressively lighter. I was edging blonder, then one day I looked in the mirror and realised my hair looked green!

AGED 56: THE LONG LOCKS THAT AREN'T MINE

In 2008, my husband left me. I was heartbroken, so was my hair — stress took its toll in the form of excessive shedding

In 2008, my husband left me. I was heartbroken, so was my hair — stress took its toll in the form of excessive shedding.

Someone suggested extensions and I thought: ‘Hey, why not!’ So for the next four months I really did have long, swishy hair.

It was an enjoyable charade, but I couldn’t keep it up.

AGED 57: YIKES, BALD PATCHES

A new horror came to haunt my hair: telogen effluvium, which in plain language is excessive hair shedding

A new horror came to haunt my hair: telogen effluvium, which in plain language is excessive hair shedding.

‘Don’t worry,’ I was told by the kind trichologist.

‘This is temporary. It will grow back.’

It did, but never how it was before. Every year or two, my hair would part from my head and I would sweep it up.

I tried — and failed — to go grey gracefully and spent fortunes on thickening shampoos.

Somehow, I managed to look presentable most days. Sometimes, I just wept.

AGED 64: FINALLY, I'VE GOT HAIR I LOVE

In the two hours after I’ve washed and blow dried my wispy hair, before it flops, it looks good enough. Despite the widening parting, my partner finds me attractive

Today, most of my friends wear their hair straight, glossy and shoulder length.

This looks more youthful than in my mother’s day and is a telling sign of the times — we want to look young for as long as we can.

In the two hours after I’ve washed and blow dried my wispy hair, before it flops, it looks good enough.

Despite the widening parting, my partner finds me attractive.

Super-crimper Sam McKnight has announced ‘the wig is the contemporary transforming accessory’.

It’s definitely something I intend to consider.