Musings of an Unintentional Hippie

Ten years ago, nobody would have called me a hippie.

I’ve never been what you would describe as an “earthy” person. I don’t get along with the outdoors—grass and pollen make me sneeze. I can’t stand the feel of dirt on my feet or under my nails. I avoid anything muddy, gritty, or sticky. I hate bugs and I avoid the sun like a vampire.

I could never claim to be an “environmentalist.” I fully condone hunting furry creatures. I’ve never been particularly concerned about saving water. I should probably recycle more than just my aluminum cans. I planted a tree on Arbor Day once, but it died.

I’m not a vegan (I grew up on a dairy farm) and I don’t eat paleo. I’ll take chocolate over kale any day of the week. I’m not quite sure what tabouli and quinoa are, and I’m only a moderate fan of granola. I don’t go out of my way to buy organic.

I shower. I shave. I wash my hair. I brush my teeth. I wear deodorant. I get frequent haircuts and I’ve never sported dreadlocks.

Tie-dye and peasant blouses make me look fat. I’ve never smoked pot. I can’t stand the smell of patchouli. I've never burned incense.

I’ve always considered myself a pretty average—if not slightly high maintenance—person. In my younger years, I wouldn’t have even dreamed about leaving the house without first doing my hair and makeup.

I was always eager to try out new products. Shellac? BB cream? Dry shampoo? Cleansing conditioner? I was all over it. Like the majority of American women, I chose my products based primarily on scent.

My poor hair took a real beating in cosmetology school. I colored it monthly—at least—and would frequently flat iron my messy waves into submission. Eventually I learned to embrace my curls, though this required a daily cocktail of mousse, oils, gels, creams and sprays. Even after I left my career in the beauty industry, I still felt the most at home in the hair care aisle. Beauty, and skin care is something that I was, am, and always will be passionate about. (I just have to go about it all in a different way these days.)

Ten years ago I never would have guessed that I’d be wearing unscented deodorant and cleaning my house with baking soda and vinegar. I never would have thought that I would willingly throw out all of my perfumes, body sprays and scented soaps. I never would have imagined that I’d carry around my own hand soap with me everywhere and wash my laundry in organic detergent. I had never even considered washing my face with oil, covering my body in dead-sea mud or spraying my hands down with apple cider vinegar. If you had told the germaphobic me of ten years ago that one day I would be terrified of clean bathrooms and the smell of febreeze, I wouldn’t have believed you.

Yet here I am. Not your average American girl anymore…

…but not really a full-blown hippie yet either.

I have the feeling that living with allergic contact dermatitis is going to be a long journey. First came the shock of realizing that I couldn’t use most commercially available products. Then came the research: What are isothiazolinones and why do they make me itch? The more research I did, and the more people I talked to who were going through the same thing as me, the more I understood and the better I could avoid my allergens. I cut so much junk out of my life. Junk I never even realized was junk. But I was left with an intense feeling of sadness for what I had lost. I lacked a sense of self-identity.

If I wasn’t the girl with the bathroom stocked full of sweet scented hand soap, who was I?

If I couldn’t use “normal” products, what could I use?

Many of the substitutes I found were from companies who pride themselves in being things such as:

Natural

Organic

Cruelty Free

One day I looked at my medicine cabinet and realized that I had collected a whole bunch of hippie shit—not by choice but out of necessity.

When you’re itchy, you’re desperate for anything to make the rash go away. If someone told you to grind up unicorn poop and rub it on your face, you might think, “why not? I’ll try anything at this point!”

I’ve found that sometimes the wacky hippie cures work… Sometimes they don’t. What worked for others doesn’t always work for me, just as what works for me won’t always work for you. Everyone’s situation has unique aspects to it.

Not all of us are cut out to make our own lotions, go without antiperspirant, no-poo our hair, brush our teeth with coconut oil or wash our dishes in a cool mountain stream. And that’s ok. I’m trying to find things that work for me—for who I am now and for who I want to be in the future.

So for now I am just an unintentional, somewhat reluctant, hippie.

Thanks for joining me on my journey.