‘I have never felt so popular!’: can I change my look – and my life – with a clip-on fringe?

The 70s had “the Fawcett.” In the 90s it was all about “the Rachel.” But now there’s a new era-defining hair cut. “The Claudia.” Yes, the glossy inky-black block fringe that mostly shrouds the face of its owner, the presenter Claudia Winkleman, has become a seminal moment on and off TV screens. It is a fringe that has spawned memes, online forums dedicated to debating its length and a fan account on X. “Thoughts and opinions from the highest paid fringe on the BBC” reads the bio. Alan Carr has described it, not Winkleman, as a national treasure. While Winkleman’s signature Traitors style, including her chunky roll-necks and fingerless gloves, is easily emulated, her fringe is a little trickier. It requires a steadfast faithfulness, the type Joe Marler thought Nick Mohammed had on the most recent Celebrity series. Well, until now. It turns out, just like pert bums and perky boobs, you can just fake it. A quick search online brings up a range of commitment free clip-in fringes. For someone like me with a longstanding fringe fantasy but whose only big hair change over the past three decades has been growing it from clavicle to nipple length, it’s ideal. “We created them so customers can experience what it is like to have a fringe without actually having a fringe,” says Hadley Yates, a London based hairstylist and extensions specialist who recently launched his own range of fraudulent fringes under his brand Curated. While online retailers sell synthetic versions for as little as £2, Yates’s £35 full fringes are made from real hair which he says he sources from ethically approved suppliers in India. I quickly discover that the fake hair fake fringe versus real hair fake fringe debate is a bit like comparing a cashmere jumper to a polyester knit. A synthetic fringe is made from plastic which means it has an overly shiny finish. It is also prone to becoming static. Meanwhile, a fake fringe made of real hair behaves like real hair. It moves in the wind and you can blast it with a hairdryer. If this was an episode of Is it Cake?, Yates’s fringes would definitely not be chosen to be sliced. The fringes come in six colours and are sold as ready to wear. However, if you want something a little more bespoke, you can pop into Yates’s salon or take it to your own hairdresser to trim or even colour. The fake fringe sits on a lace base into which the hair has been hand sewn. On top of that sits a snap hair clip to secure it into your real hair. The toffee shade blends with my natural colouring, but the base is lighter than my parting. To fix it, Yates darkens it with a spritz of L’Oréal root touch up spray. Winkleman’s fringe icons include Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler and the Pretenders’ Chrissie Hynde. She says a fringe shouldn’t be “apologetic”. Meanwhile, I want a fringe that sits en terrasse with a glass of red in hand – think Jane Birkin and Brigitte Bardot. It turns out that with a fake version, you can get the best of both. Rather than a blunt cut, the clip-in has a curtain bang shape so you can easily part it. We choose to place it halfway back on my natural parting so I have enough length to play with. Inserting it takes seconds. You place the fringe upside down and backwards, then flip it over and push down the clip. Winkleman has described herself as “half-fringe” and as I raise my head to look in the mirror I can see why. Well, I actually can’t see. Yates gives my fringe a little trim. It still titillates my eyelids but my visibility is increased. I head to the office. From Emily’s “trauma bangs” in Emily in Paris to Esther’s “crisis bangs” in the most recent series of Nobody Wants This, everyone knows that cutting a fringe is never really about the fringe. So compliments come with a concerned head tilt until I blurt out that it’s fake. It’s like I’ve got one of those handbag-sized dogs. I have never felt so popular. Everyone wants to pet it. I quickly learn that unlike Fight Club, all anyone in Fringe Club wants to do is talk about fringes. But unlike bona fide members, I don’t need to worry about dry shampoo and constant trimming. The temperature plummets and I discover another fringe issue – headwear. A hood is fine but a beanie means I have to re-comb it. No big deal, but instead I pop it in my bag then put it in back when I’m indoors. Twenty-four hours later and I still can’t get used to the feeling that a fruit fly is hovering above my eyelids. I can’t stop fluttering them. Forget blondes, maybe it’s fringes who have more fun?