The Revolving Door of Haircare

I play favorites when it comes to many things in life. Brand loyalty has its place, and with products I take pride in, I will tirelessly support their continued existence. Adidas running shoes, Edge Shaving Gel, Netflix, KC Masterpiece barbeque sauce, Papermate Flexgrip blue pens, FastBreak, Gatorade, Wawa, et cetera. All of these would take a mighty rival to topple my allegience. I'm not calling for hall of fame status for any of these (ok, maybe Wawa), just letting you know that when a purchasing decision needs to be made, these rise above the competition without a second thought.

I know what you're thinking. Who actually spells out et cetera? Freak.

But I sat here trying to compile that list, I found that just about every other product that enters my shopping cart/gas tank/mailbox must face a rigorous test prior to procurement. And if the general functional properties are the same, then as sad as it seems, these brands have to compete on none other than price. I pride myself on keeping my grocery bills low, so complementary products have little room to impress. Don't get me wrong, products are not permanently banished to this classification; if something impresses me enough, it can join the list above. If I find out that Exxon fuel will give my car airborne capabilities, then I'll add it to the list. 'Cause that would rock.

One such product category that has been an audition process is shampoo. When you're younger, you don't make the product decision. You use whatever is in the shower when your dad wakes you up at 5:50 in the morning to go to school. Pert Plus? Fine, whatever. Just let me go back to sleep.

But once your out of school, the shopping responsibility's on you, pal. Now most shampoo falls into the same price range, and a simple sale price will tilt the scales it their favor. I'm not picky. I just want some liquid soap solution to make my hair not look like I was just asleep for the last five hours. Scent? Color? Consistency? Not that important. Cost? You bet.

Now the one decision every product needs to make before I warrant its suitability is its identity. In men's haircare, you've got two options. "Should I be a shampoo, and make friends with a conditioner, or should I just do it myself and be both?" The 2-in-1 concept is a tricky one, and I'll admit, making me buy two bottles is personally handicapping your chances. I could run out of one before the other, and then where does that leave us? Either with clean, unrefined hair, or silky smooth, unwashed follicles. Great.

As the pricing scale ebbs and flows, many different brands get a shot to make their career as "Condon's Preferred Choice." The big green bottle, Pert Plus, led out of the gates because of its ties to my childhood. Good color, industrial strength, could probably clean grease off a frying pan. But then the big bottle got too expensive, and I was once again in the market. Besides, I never quite figured out what the Plus was. It's like I was paying for something I didn't even know what it was. That's ah-no good.

Head and Shoulders moved in from the on-deck service and seemed to do the trick. Except for the big problem that the name is a misnomer. I have never felt satisfied with the ability of this product to clean my shoulders. I mean, it's a lot of surface area I've got up there, and a bar of soap does a much better job. Again, paying for unused services. No way.

Dove got a brief stint in the driver's seat as well. Have you ever tried to take a shower with a bird flying around the bathroom?!? Not a good time.

Which leaves us with the current scenario - WEGMANS! I've decided because of my inability to see a real difference when it comes to my hair's volume and bounce, store brand should be just fine. And since Wegman's should is a Condon's Preferred Choice, that means it at least deserves a shot. One problem though...

The bottle is white and pink.

In order to convince myself I'm not using Girl Shampoo, I'm going to have to resort to doing guy things during the lather, rinse, repeat cycle. Like singing football fight songs in the shower or hanging drywall. OR! I could fix our drywall ceiling, which my apartment complex has repeatedly failed to do.

Yeah, nothing says manly like drywall.