Not the hair of your twenties. Not the hair from the photos you keep showing your hairdresser while she nods politely and then does something completely different. The hair you have NOW. The hair that menopause has been quietly reorganising while you were busy surviving everything else.
I grew up in my mother's hair salon in North London. HAIR is basically my second language. So when my curls started deserting me in my forties: drier, thinner, flatter, sadder. I took it personally. I felt like a cobbler whose children have no shoes. Except the shoes were my curls. And they had fallen off. In a car park. In the rain.
I tried everything. My bathroom shelf looks like the clearance section of a hair shop going out of business. Fourteen products, three of which I can't name off the top of my head and two of which I have no memory of buying. None of them worked. They all cost a fortune. (Two of them definitively made things worse. I'm looking at you, "miracle curl reviving oil" from 2022.)
And then. THEN. Someone told me about Eve Curls.
Darlings. My hair came back to life.








