Frequently Asked Questions

Panic doesn’t even cover it—that stomach drop when you realize your new haircut is a disaster. Stylists spot the regret faster than I can find a bobby pin, but fixing it? Forget it. “Just wear a hat” is not a solution.

How can I cope with the disappointment of a haircut that didn’t turn out as expected?

I know I’m not the only one who’s Googled “bad haircut what now.” I stare at my crooked bangs, scrolling through old selfies, feeling dramatic. Distraction is key—maybe it’s styling mousse, maybe it’s scarf shopping. Accessories don’t fix confidence, though.

Experts say you need to stew in your annoyance for a few days before moving on. There’s a whole blog post about grieving lost length. Honestly, I just want someone to invent instant hair reversal. Still waiting.

What are some positive perspectives to adopt when you regret a new haircut?

People say to treat a bad haircut as a “learning experience,” but honestly, nobody finds that helpful when their hair is sticking out in weird directions. Someone told me they started tracking hair growth with vitamins, but that just became a distraction.

Celebrity stylists (the ones who never mess up) say every mistake is a chance to recalibrate your style. I try to remember, sometimes my favorite outfits happened because my hair refused to cooperate. So I guess unpredictability isn’t always bad—sometimes you just pretend you planned it.

Are there any immediate styling tips to manage a too-short haircut?

Dry shampoo. Everywhere. I’m not kidding—if I could just buy “volume” in a giant jug, I’d have it on tap next to the kitchen sink. After that one time I accidentally got micro-layers (don’t ask), I started blasting my head with texturizing spray just to trick myself into thinking I had the haircut I actually wanted. Did it work? Sort of. Maybe. Depends on the day and the mirror.

People keep hyping up those temporary clip-in extensions, so I caved and wore them to a cousin’s wedding. The little snap things tugged at my scalp, but honestly, desperate times. Sometimes you just need to feel like a person again, even if it’s fake hair. Also, hats. I stole my roommate’s hat and spent the whole day scratching my head because apparently, I’m allergic to “fashion.” Headbands? Meh. They exist. Sometimes they help, sometimes they just slide off and make you look like you’re twelve.

What are the signs that your hair stylist may not be understanding your style preferences?

So, here’s a thing: if your stylist starts talking about their celebrity clients instead of, you know, your head, maybe just run. I once brought in three photos, and the stylist barely glanced before launching into some wild pitch about “something fun.” Next thing I know, there’s a buzzing sound and I’m halfway to military school. Why even ask for pictures if you’re just gonna ignore them?

Oscar Blandi (yeah, the guy with the fancy quotes everywhere) says visuals matter because “words can only take you so far” (see here, if you want proof), but honestly, if they brush off your screenshots, is it even worth trying again? I’ve started asking the same question three times just to see if they’re actually listening. Sometimes I just get a vague nod, which feels like a warning sign for an accidental bob.

How long does it typically take for hair to grow out after an unsatisfactory cut?

Time slows down. Like, half an inch a month, if I remember to take my vitamins and don’t just eat cereal for dinner every night. Supposedly, dermatologists insist scalp massages help, but after about a week, my arms gave up. People swear by biotin, but has anyone actually measured their hair with a ruler? I haven’t.

Honestly, you’re looking at three to six months before you can pretend the disaster never happened—unless you got a pixie, and then, sorry, you’re in for the long haul. My aunt is convinced that cutting hair on the full moon makes it grow faster. Did it work? No clue. But it gave us something to laugh about while I waited for my bangs to stop poking me in the eyes.

What should you discuss with your stylist to avoid haircut regrets in the future?

Photos. So many photos. I’m talking: screenshots, crumpled magazine pages, those weirdly filtered Pinterest things—because last time I just mumbled “just a trim,” and, I swear, I walked out with half my head shaved. I don’t know, maybe my idea of “trim” is cosmic nonsense to stylists? Anyway, I just dump the pile in front of them now and see what face they make. If they don’t immediately start picking apart what’ll look like garbage with my hair texture or face shape, I get nervous. (Oscar Blandi said something about stylists needing to be brutally honest about visuals for your stylist—which, yeah, please, tell me if my dream bangs are just a meme.)

And that whole “spin you to the mirror” moment? Not buying it. Like, cool, it’s flat and weirdly perfect now, but what about tomorrow? I make them show me how to style it right there, because if they can’t, why would I magically figure it out at home? I’ve started blurting out questions about maintenance, weird cowlicks, how long until it looks like a disaster—just to avoid that “oh no, what did I do” spiral two weeks later.