Ode to a Hair Dryer

We gather together today to mourn the loss of a dear, dear hair care appliance: my hair dryer.

As you can see from the above photo, my hair dryer died in the middle of blow drying my hair this morning, resulting in a flippy, curvy mess of a mop. I was much less upset by the state of my hair than I was by the loss of my faithful blow dryer. You see, I have had this hair dryer for seven long years. Yes, seven years. I know, this is amazing.

The loss of this blow dryer has, in all seriousness, brought up a whole mess of happy memories for me. I bought this dryer seven years ago, in the summer of 2003, in preparation for a semester abroad in Oxford, England. The Professor and I had been accepted into a program for American students to study at Oxford University (specifically, in our case, at Keble College) and we were, in a word, ecstatic to be spending the first part of our junior year of college in England. I prepared carefully, as I could only bring two suitcases for four months of living abroad, and this hair dryer was a proud purchase made out of my meager summer earnings. (I also had to earn enough that summer to live off of for a semester. The exchange rate escalated dramatically in the first weeks of our stay. Needless to say, we didn't do much traveling.)

I bought this small travel hair dryer for about $10, figuring that if it lasted a semester, it would have more than done its job. It features a switch to change the voltage, and that, combined with my trusty outlet changer, made it possible for me to use it, well, anywhere on Earth. It featured 1600 watts of power and a collapsing handle.

And it carried me through that semester and beyond. It carried me through countless hairstyles: short, long, medium, bobbed, layered, you name it, I've had it. It carried me through my engagement (in the last days of our stay in England), the beginning of our marriage, our first home together, my first pregnancy, my first babies, two cross-country moves, another baby (just before whose arrival I got a drastic pixie cut), and beyond.

Maybe this sounds silly to you. Hey, it is silly. But this hair dryer, no matter how silly it does sound, is a link to a recent past that is, at the same time, a distant past. I was 20 when I bought this dryer. Twenty. No one knows who they are or what they think when they are twenty, and I was going to Oxford. With my $10 hair dryer, a suitcase of sweaters, another empty suitcase for books, and a vague idea that maybe my classes would be hard. I knew that I desperately loved The Professor, that I wanted to marry him, but I had no idea that he was leaving an engagement ring in his parents' safekeeping back home in the States. I had no idea I would have twins in four short years, and a sweet baby girl in less than six. I had no idea where we would go, what we would do, who we would meet.

And this hair dryer is, in its own unique and loyal way, is a link to that sweet, naive girl of twenty, who stood in front of Big Ben and, apparently, bossed the photographer the entire time.

I've already bought a new one to replace it. My old Conair 1600 is in the trash, its usefulness long past, its life not precious enough for anything beyond a passing mention on a narrowly-read blog.

And, as ridiculous as it sounds, I get a knot in my stomach when I think about having to get used to a new hair dryer. How spoiled is that?

I should note that the tan trench coat I am wearing in the above picture was also bought specifically for this trip to Oxford, also out of my summer earnings. I chose carefully from the Gap's offerings that early fall and shelled out $80 for this coat. And I still love and wear it to this day, where it stands the test of time and fashion's "trend" pronouncements. If it ever goes the way of the hair dryer, I might have a nervous breakdown.

Happy hair drying trails to you, my friends.