Ellie Phillips - Scissors Sisters & Manic Panics

I didn’t really mind that the head spoke Tagalog, or that it was called Minnie, but what did matter to me was that it was blonde, which was a different colour to the redhead pictured on the box. And red was the colour I wanted. But instead of being devastated, I sneaked into Aunty’s salon and did a red dye-job on the Styling Head. You know, I did pretty good for a six-year-old, even if I say so myself, and I’ve never looked back since. It’s what made me the hair geek I am today. That and my DNA.

So now, when I was about to acquire a half-sister, I thought about Marie’s hair and I wondered if it resembled my growing-out Cleopatra bob, or if it was like Abe’s shaggy mess of curls that he had refused to let me loose on so far. (To be frank, Abe is a bit of a hippy. He could carry a buzz-cut. I think it would really improve his whole look.) Or maybe Marie wasn’t like either of us – she might just be like the bits that connected us. There weren’t many, granted. We had the shaky hand thing obviously, and we had similar round eyes, but people said that there was another subtle similarity too.

‘There’s something else about you and Abe that’s the same,’ Mum says. ‘You don’t look alike, but there’s an expression, or it’s how you hold yourselves. There’s something that makes me know you’re related.’

Would Marie have that something too?

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