curly hair

I have no use for blowdriers or curling irons that clutter the bathroom counter of the girl with straight hair.

I get out of the shower, put on some leave-in conditioner or styling cream, and leave the house.

My hair looks cool when it's messy.

I will never have to pay $65 for a perm. I will never have to buy special volumizing mousse.

Humidity is good for my hair.* I can get that little ringlet look framing my face without even trying.

And the best part is, if I want to make my hair straight, I can do it with less effort than it takes for straight hair to be curled.

Beyond the frizz, I still love my curly hair.

• Use Aveda Sap Moss Shampoo and Sap Moss Conditioning Detangler. This stuff is amazing. It encourages better curls even in the dry winter. Everything Aveda makes is natural and they don't do animal testing, so the PETA folks will be happy. Plus, it makes my hair smell pretty. updated 7/16: I discovered shampoo and conditioner that I love better than Aveda's - Elucence Moisture Balance. I have not seen this in stores, but you can order it from various places online.
• Never brush or comb your hair when dry. This only makes you frizzy, as Queequeg points out below. Comb conditioner into your hair when wet; apart from that, leave it alone.
• Moisturize. Think of your curls like a sponge; if a sponge already carries moisture, it can't suck anything else out of its environment. So...keep your hair sufficiently moisturized and the humidity in the air will negatively affect it much less.
• Visit www.naturallycurly.com to learn more about your hair from other curlies.

If you have any other tips, I'd be happy to hear them!

Strange as it may sound, my hair was straight when I was a child, curly when I was a teen-ager, and wavy thereafter.

My mother loved my curly hair. I hated it at the time. My friends teased me about it a lot, calling me the lamb.

In retrospect, now I think it was cool and looked good on the youngster I was. One advantage (at least when you're a teen-ager) was that I did not have to comb my hair all through high school.

One funny experience I will never forget: As a youngster I was sitting in a barber's chair. An "old" man walked in (oh, he must have been in his forties, but to me he was old, hehehe). His barber asked how he wanted his hair done.

He pointed at me and said, "Like that!"

The barber replied very politely, "Sorry, Sir, you just don't have the hair for that."

For what it's worth, neither do I anymore. Panta rhei.

It was May 1971, a date etched on my soul; I was 13 and attending my first real pop concert. The stage was dark, the noise from the audience was rising, the whistling began. Suddenly a single spotlight illuminated a tiny elfin figure sitting cross-legged on the stage. There he was, Marc Bolan, my idol, my love, my dream guy. A mass of black curls framed his beautiful face, he smiled (at me, I longed to believe), and the roar of the crowd almost drowned out his quivering voice as he started to sing Deborah.

Almost overnight I was suddenly the luckiest girl in school. My hair was the envy of friends and enemies alike. T.Rex were the 'in' band and everyone wanted curls. I stopped trying to brush mine straight and let my ringlets rock and roll.

Six years later I shed a few tears when I heard that Marc had died when his car crashed into a tree in Putney, London. Although he was no longer my idol, you don't forget your first love or the guy that made you feel beautiful.

I'm older and wiser now, but my curls still frame my face, my friends still covet them. To this day the tree in Putney is strewn with yellow ribbons.