Okay. You kids have it lucky. In MY day I would put a tea towel over my hair and iron it with my mother’s old Sunbeam. A real iron, made of…iron. Or, I would wash my hair and then put on a toque and keep it on until my hair dried. On very rare occasions my beloved mom (Grandma Dame) would take my sister and I to the salon, where they would blow dry our cowlicks and we could pretend (for one day, or until we stepped outside into the rain or snow) that we were Farrah Fawcett (-esque). The reality though is many hairstylists (we called them Hair Dressers then) did not know how to cut our hair and, after painfully pulling and blowing our bangs straight, we’d sit back and breathe a sigh of relief. I cannot tell you how many times I cried over newly washed, post salon hair that sproinged up well above the acceptable bang level, and rendered me Frankenstein like. So, the point of all this (and I see Annabelle rolling her eyes as she reads this) is to CAREFULLY CHOOSE YOUR STYLIST. Period. Ask questions, get a referral, and go for a consult. Do this before they cut your unruly hair, girls. Oh! and buy a good toque. I still use that one.