Despair Was the Turning Point — Why a Hairdresser Made His Own Hair Product

→ この記事の日本語版はこちら / Read in Japanese

Ever since I moved to the United States, I’ve been searching for one thing.

A leave-in treatment — what you might call a detangling mist. The kind that smooths the comb through, gives hair just enough slip, cuts static. Not glamorous. Not exciting. But for me, it was an essential tool. Especially here in San Francisco, where every client who sits in my chair brings a completely different hair type, texture, and care routine. Something that makes any hair easier to work with — that’s not a luxury. That’s a necessity. Particularly for someone like me, who cuts dry.

Back in Japan, I had a product I loved. An argan oil–based spray with a fine mist and a light touch. Perfect weight, perfect control. I used it on every single client, every single day.

There was just one fatal problem.

It was an aerosol.

You can’t bring aerosols on a plane. Which meant I couldn’t bring it to America. Which meant I had to find a replacement.

Not a “Product” — a Tool

“Argan oil is the key ingredient. The U.S. market is enormous. There must be something.”

That’s what I told myself.

I was wrong.

The American hair oil market is massive, and argan-based products are everywhere. I bought one after another. Tested dozens. Threw most of them away before they were half empty.

The problem was always the same. Nearly every product on the shelf is designed to impress the consumer — to deliver instant impact, a dramatic before-and-after moment. That means heavy texture. You apply it, the hair shines, there’s an obvious “wow.” But it interferes with the cut. It weighs down the design. It kills volume. Drugstore products in Japan have the same issue.

That’s not what I needed.

What I needed was something subtle. Something that works with every hair type and never fights the style — especially volume. A quiet sheen, not a glossy coat. Moisture without weight.

Something that supports the hairdresser’s work from behind the scenes. Not a “product” in the consumer sense. A tool. The kind of thing that should always be within arm’s reach on a professional’s station — invisible, reliable, and precise.

I couldn’t find it anywhere.

Then one day, I did.

I won’t name the brand, but I finally found something close to what I’d been looking for. Light, refined, and it stayed out of the way. I was so relieved that I started ordering it twelve bottles at a time.

…And then it was gone.

One day, with no warning, the company reformulated the product. Same packaging, completely different formula. The lightness I relied on had vanished. It felt like every other product on the market — heavy and indistinct.

I stood there holding a bottle from my stockpile, and it hit me.

Back to square one.

The thought of starting that whole testing process over again — spending months buying products, trying them, being disappointed, throwing them out — was genuinely devastating.

Despair Was the Turning Point

But that despair was exactly the turning point.

For the first time in my life, a thought crossed my mind: What if I made it myself?

I’d never considered that before. Not once. Products are something you buy. Manufacturers make them. A hairdresser’s job is to cut hair, not to formulate cosmetics. That’s what I’d always believed.

But the thing I depended on had disappeared. Nothing on the market could replace it. And I absolutely, truly did not want to go through that cycle of buying and discarding again. The money, the time, the disappointment — no. So maybe… I should just make it? That might actually be faster? But it can’t be that simple, can it? Then again, I really don’t want to keep throwing money at products that don’t work…

I went back and forth with myself for a while.

Then I started researching. And what I found genuinely surprised me.

In the United States, a remarkable number of cosmetic-grade raw materials are available for individual purchase. I had no idea. In Japan, this is essentially impossible. Regulations are strict, and professional-grade ingredients are almost entirely gated from individual consumers. That’s true not just for cosmetics — in my experience, Japan makes it quite difficult for individuals to source specialized materials of any kind.

But here? The infrastructure exists. The raw materials are accessible. The information is out there. If you’re willing to do the work — wait. Could I actually… do this?

That was the beginning. In a sense, it was also the beginning of a long, difficult road. I didn’t know yet what was coming. All I had was a fire in my chest and a very clear picture of what I wanted to create.

A product that surpasses everything I’d ever tested. My ideal texture, my ideal finish. It’s hard to put into words, but my hands know. After testing dozens upon dozens of products, my fingertips know exactly what “right” feels like.

And as a side effect of all that testing, I already had a rough sense of which raw ingredients produced the qualities I was after.

I ordered the materials immediately.

And a second kind of hell began.

The most enjoyable hell I’ve ever been through — though “easy” is not a word I’d use.

Leave-In Treatment Mist No.115 & No.215

…That’s how Leave-In Treatment Mist No.115 came to exist.

A leave-in treatment mist I made for my own daily salon work — designed to be used on every client. Born from despair with what the market offered. A hairdresser’s first self-made formulation.

The rest of the story — the trial and error of formulation, the endless testing, and how No.115 and No.215 finally came to be — I’ll save for the next piece.

A hairdresser making his own tool. It might sound like a dramatic claim.

But when it’s something you reach for every single day, you don’t want it changed on someone else’s terms. You want to trust your own senses completely and shape it with your own hands.

For me, at least, it was the most natural next step I could have taken.

→ この記事の日本語版はこちら / Read in Japanese