This one time, when I was a freshman in college, I had really short hair and so I decided to get extensions. Mind you, this was before extensions were so mainstream & accessible for white folks. So, my friend, Mary Hurst, and I went down 26th street to a place called Queens by La'trice one Saturday morning and I spent 4 hours in the chair. (La'trice had me pick up my extensions from a beauty supply the day before...I did not go to the right beauty supply and ended up with some interesting extensions).
First of all, she braided all of my hair to my head (very tightly- ow). Then, she sewed the extensions onto my hair. Then, she trimmed up the extensions into a fashionable, layery cut.
The only problem? Well, the hair did not match my skin tone. The hair did not match my ethnicity. It was like Aliyah's hair on my head (rest in peace). It just did not look right, people. Plain and simple. (I am the one who bought the hair extensions so this was on me, not La'trice.)
I left the extensions in for approximately three days. I spent most of these three days with my hair in a ponytail. Then, my scalp was itching and I couldn't reach it except by jamming pencil lead into my skull and so I surrendered and walked down to my friend Mary's dorm room and she cut out all my extensions.
P.S. I only have one photo documenting this hair excursion. It was taken on a disposable camera and my hair is in a ponytail at a Baylor football game. I kinda wish I had some more documentation for you.