It's challenging to be pregnant is the contemporary era. Gone are the days of lounging about in one's maternity caftan, martini in hand, cigarette artfully perched between one's red manicured nails. Those halcyon days have been replaced by the age of fear and guilt—raw milk cheese, runny yolks, almost any fish, all manner of salumi, a thimble full of wine, and worst of all, many beauty treatments:
strictly forbidden. How's a girl supposed to get her glow on with three months of re-growth showing?
For a natural, safe alternative to chemical hair processes I turned to my favorite and most trusted purveyor of "fresh handmade cosmetics": the always reliable
Lush. I had remembered reading about their "completely natural and safe," yet ridiculously messy and time-intensive
hair hennas (also called, no lie, Les Cacas) in the
Lush Times.
Okay, so I consider myself to be rather intrepid when it comes to in-home beauty treatments, and I was determined to give Les Cacas a chance. The first step involves chopping up some chunks of the henna (it looks like a chocolate bar, but smells like wet hay and green tea), mixing with water (or, in my case, coffee—
Illy, no less) and heating in a double boiler until it's the consistency of yogurt. Lush has an entire
customer forum devoted to Les Cacas, which I highly recommend reading for useful tips and additives (this is where I learned that mixing the henna with coffee leads to a richer brown).
When Les Cacas is bearably hot, one slathers it throughout the hair. It's a bit like piling mud on your head and trying to get it evenly distributed. Then, cover the big mess with a plastic shower cap and go about your business for the next, oh, five or six hours (again, no lie). When you just can't stand it any longer, remove shower cap, behold the hideous pile of dirt that is your hair with the dried-on Cacas (they don't call it Cacas for nothin'), partially fill a tub, let hair soak until the mixture starts to soften. Then take a shower and rinse and rinse (use lots of conditioner and then end with shampoo) until water runs clear. Les Cacas makes an enormous mess; the difficulty of both the application and removal process cannot be understated.
But the results: total hair perfection. I did my first Les Cacas experiment about six weeks ago. I could not believe how fantastic my hair looked, felt, and behaved after the whole henna adventure. I suspect this is due to the high content of cocoa butter, which is used to bind the henna. In the interest of full disclosure: henna definitely does not have the grey coverage of chemical coloring (greys turn a much lighter, golden shade), but I found the brunette shade that I achieved with Caca Brun to be the richest, most natural-looking brown ever. I am now a complete henna disciple and actually look forward to continuing experimentation and concoction of various henna mixes in my kitchen. The whole process is complete madness, yet seems very ancient and earthy. I can totally envision Nefertiti or Cleopatra lounging all day eating peeled grapes while having a conditioning henna treatment.
