Right please read the following article below and then answer my question. If you did this could you still curl your hair? Then wash it wud go back to being perfectly staight?
By Lifestyle editor Sarah Stone
Straight Talking
Lifestyle editor Sarah Stone before and after Yuko
When I was younger people regularly raved about my hair. Thick, glossy, naturally auburn with a slight wave, it tumbled over my shoulders in silky, burnished coils. I could wash it in washing-up liquid – and regularly did in my student days – and still it looked fab. I’d use a hair dryer, ooh, at most five times a year; and have a trim maybe twice a year.
Fast forward 15 years and my crowning glory had become my arch enemy. Years of colouring (redheads generally go grey early) had left it with the sort of frizziness usually only sported by Open University scientists who pop up on BBC2 in the middle of the night. It was coarse as a navvie’s tongue and rough as a badger’s backside. Now I avidly bought up every hair styling product on the shelf, but none of them, from expensive celebrity stylist GHD straighteners to the latest high street chemist miracle defrizzer, made one jot of difference.
I had two options: spend the rest of my life looking like Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin circa 1975 or go for an elfin-esque crop, a good look for Nicole Kidman in the film Birth, but could it work on someone for whom the earth’s gravitational pull has been less kind facially?
yuko backview
And then – Alleluia! – a friend told me about Yuko. "Is that a famous sumo wrestler?" I asked, perplexed. "No, it's a Japanese hair-straightening system," said she. "Jennifer Aniston...Girls Aloud, they’ve all had it done. No-one’s hair is so naturally flowy." This I had to investigate, so quicker than you can say 'tumbling tresses' I was sat in Yuko’s flagship salon in Mayfair, London, awaiting my flowy-haired future.
And quite a wait I had. Being Yuko’d can take up to six hours, depending on the condition and thickness of your hair. Because red hair follicles are the thickest it’s also the most resistant to the treatment; I was there for the long-haul.
HOW IT WORKS
Fikri, my stylist, first assessed the condition of my hair (diplomatically keeping his groans to a minimum) before washing it. He then sprayed ‘hair water’ all over it to restore its PH balance, followed by a protective pre-treatment spray to protect it from the chemicals used in the process.
‘GXI’, the Yuko chemical, which smells like an evil combination of rotten eggs and bleach, was applied. "This will break the bounce of your hair," said Firki with passion. My head was then wrapped, rather pedestrianly, in Tesco cling-film. After about 40 minutes the solution was washed off and Firki began the painstaking process of blow-drying my hair straight in tiny sections. This was followed by at least two hours worth of work with the straighteners, heated to their maximum temperature for my contrary follicles. After Firki had literally straightened my hair centimetre strip by centimetre strip, I was left with the poker-straight tresses of my dreams. "That’s fantastic, I can’t believe it!" I gasped. "No, it’s not finished yet," said Firki, "We have to start all over again.” And start all over again he did, plastering the foul-smelling gunk all over my perfectly primed locks. He explained that my follicles would now 'capture the memory’ of being straight, and the second chemical treatment, followed by another intense blowdrying and flat-ironing session, would seal the memory in.
Three hours, seven Heats, five Hello’s, four OK!s and half a Grazia later, I was done. And...omigosh...the difference. My formerly manic mane had been beaten into sleek submission. I now had plumb-line straight tresses which slid like a red satin sheet over my shoulders and swooshed gently when I turned my head (and, boy, how many times did I turn my head on the short walk back to the office). The shine was incredible – a key selling point of Yuko is that it actually nourishes the hair.
Yuko side view
But the real tests were still to come. How would it look after the first wash? How would it look in a month and, most significantly of all, could it survive a two-week trip to the Sahara Desert I was due to go on?
After Yuko you're advised not to wash your hair for 48 hours; I hung on for four increasingly itchy-scalped days, so terrified was I of returning to haystack hair. I needn't have worried. I used my normal pre-Yuko shampoo and conditioner and gave it a quick blast with the hairdryer. If anything, it looked even better than before, still pancake flat but more natural looking.
As for the desert trip, despite being blasted by the sun, wrapped up in a sweaty shesh (the cloth Nomads wear around their heads and faces to keep sand out) and washed in showers where a trickle of cold, rust-coloured water dribbled out every three minutes if you were lucky, it stayed salon-perfect, so much so that it drew incredulous comments from my fellow travellers (did I tell them my secret? Did I 'eck!). One month on, I still have hair that actually moves.
As you might surmise from the above, I am a Yuko convert. I can honestly, hand on heart, say it's the best beauty treatment I've ever had. Yes, it's expensive - prices start from £120, but long, particularly rebellious hair like mine would cost £380; yes, the long application process is quite literally a pain in the backside, but - boy - are the results worth it. And, as it only needs to be redone every six-to-eight months, it's a financial commitment I'm prepared to make. After all, I could spend that money on new clothes and make-up, but if my hair looked rotten, what difference would they make?
YUKO INFO
There are currently around 500 salons UK-wide offering Yuko, including 60 branches of Toni & Guy.
Prices from £120 - £360.
Yuko is not suitable for Afro-Caribbean hair or on bleached hair, although coloured hair is fine.
Like Coca Cola, the ingredients in the GXI solution used during Yuko treatment are a close-kept family secret.