New shampoo

As people who know me are well aware, I am the ultimate 21st Century metrosexual man. I own top of the range hair straighteners; I read FHM magazine on the toilet; I shout “she’s fit” at passers by on the bus; and of course I moisturise thoroughly after masturbation.

Sad to say, I am not actually this idealised god of a man. My neck isn’t as thick as my head, nor do my pecks strain to burst out of my t-shirt. Instead, I like the non-commercialised things in life: bread, cheese and 2-in-1 shampoo.

Maybe it’s a self-respect thing, but I genuinely don’t have the confidence or tenacity to strut around showing off my CK boxers waistband off to the world. Therefore, when I am forced to buy a brand, I get very annoyed…

Last week I was forced to buy brand, thanks to Netto’s disgraceful policy of not catering exactly to my niche in the market.

This tag line here on my new bottle of shampoo denotes everything that’s wrong with modern marketing, and the gullible fools that lap it up in the vain hope that the words on the product are somehow gospel. ‘Healthy looking hair in 10 days’ – there’s no quote marks, or expert scientist with his thumbs up stood next to it in guarantee. There’s not even a tiny asterisk in the corner leading you to even tinier writing on the back of the bottle confirming the statement is in fact bollocks. It’s an irrelevant statement that will never be challenged.

And yet, this little quote – critical as I am of it – still did enough to entice me to buy this particular range of shampoo. For it seems Copenhagen does little to cater for the simple man, unless you want so simple you may as well just scrub a soap bar into your skull. The Netto I was in last week offered ‘Pantene Wild Minx’, ‘Lynx Ferocious’ and of course something along the lines of ‘L’Oréal Fruit Infusion’. It’s the same old crap on every bottle: you smell great, you look great; hey, you even feel great!

Netto deal with the other end of the market too, but sadly an industrial sized white bottle with the word ‘Shampoo’ on the front and an ingredients list of simply ‘Shampoo, yeah?’ on the back does not really appeal to me. I need a good old 2-in-1: quick, easy and effective.

Sadly I had to punt with ‘Repair and Protect’ – whatever that really means, as there was no simple, economic – yet not completely Orwellian – product available. I’ve been using this shampoo a week now, and I must say my hair doesn’t feel any different; although I do still have to wait three more days to get that desired effect.

I fully expect to wake up Monday morning with a John Travolta slick back barnet, spring out of bed; check myself in the mirror, click my fingers and point at my reflection in a ‘still got it, kid’ kind of a way, and swagger down Strøget with my leather jacket cast nonchalantly over my right shoulder; arse bulging out of my tight pants, CK boxers on show.

But for the time being I have to remain dismayed with the over-priced shampoo I’ve bought. Apparently this shampoo helps protect against styling damage. This is interesting, as my styling approach boils down to an ‘attack hair with towel until sufficiently dried’ practice. It works for me, but it’s probably not the ‘safest’ way to dry your hair.

Honestly, this bottle just makes me feel guilty about apparently not being able to maintain a healthy head of hair. ‘Repair and Protect’? Well how bad is my hair? It’s not a car with an MOT problem, it’s hair.

On the back: ‘Do you have hair that is dry/damaged and more prone to split ends?’ – the answer: I really don’t know! But you suggesting this to me makes me think ‘yes, I probably do’. Suddenly the bottle is in my shopping basket next to the bread and cheese (non-brand) and I’ve sold myself out to a day-time TV advert with fake eyelashes, heavy blusher and some pathetically camp guy stylist claiming he offers ‘salon products without the salon prices’.

Do I want to look sensational? Not particularly. But will this shampoo guilt me into thinking I look like crap? You bet it will…