Most days, I wear my hair in its natural state; loose and wavy and knotty. I might have dragged a hairbrush through it. I might not. Recently, I've started to mix things up a bit and taken to wearing it in a low plait à la art teacher to keep it out of my face (the risk of hair balls is very real). On the can't-be-bothered-to-wash-it days, a slicked-back, high ponytail does the trick. I might even chuck in a scrunchy if I'm feeling fancy. In summary: I am not a hair person. Don't get me wrong, I am beauty obsessed but – confession – hair products are my least favourite part of the beauty world. And I'm lazy.
Like the rest of the country (has it gone global yet?), Love Island has stolen my social life over the last six weeks. You could say, though, that it's given me something far more valuable in return. No, not just an unexpected crush on a boy who wears white ripped jeans (criminal but it's Chris, so it's okay); not even the discovery of my kind-of name twin (Kem, duh). Nope. What Love Island has contributed to my life is a whole load of hair inspo in the form of the always perfectly coiffed Gabby Allen.
A poolside chat? Gabby's rocking an undone bun. A fire-pit crowd around? Say hello to a zig-zag parting. And let's not forget the secondary school-style pulled-out hair strands.