The story of turning waste into something desirable and useful is what I find beautiful
When it comes to prototypes, RE=COMB’s story doesn’t exactly fit the mould. While most product mock-ups are long forgotten about years later, accumulating dust in a studio drawer or completely kaput, Sarah Jo Palmer remembers exactly where the first ever comb she created resides. Why? Because it’s in her hand every morning. “I still use it in my shower,” she says with a smile. It’s a testament to the staying power of her original design.
Cutting her own teeth (sorry) at Toni & Guy as a teen, Palmer quickly ascended the industry Rapunzel-style, living out her own hair fairytale, and moving into the world of editorial. Launching biannual magazine Off Black in 2017 to showcase nascent stylists on the fringes (again, sorry), she regularly contributes to Dazed and Vogue and now has the likes of Marc Jacobs and Bottega Veneta on her books.
Fittingly, then, RE=COMB, started by Palmer and hairstylist Christopher Deagle, had cutting-edge intentions: to create a circular comb for use in both salons and at home. “We started with our initial mould to see how it worked,” Palmer says, explaining the original product was free of branding and a little thinner than the finished article. “We gave them to lots of industry friends and hair stylists to see what they thought” – leading to a tweaked version that felt fuller and looked the part.
From the outset, RE=COMB’s products were made from reused plastic – a mix of polypropylene, high-density polyethylene and low-density polyethylene. Crucially, the combs never combine polymers. “We never mix these plastics, meaning they can be recycled onwards. It’s really important that they’re made of recycled materials but are also able to be recycled,” she says, adding that any RE=COMB can be reclaimed and reincarnated as a new edition.
While the types of plastic are single-source, different colours are mixed after being shredded and melted, creating a marbled appearance that make each comb glean with a unique chatoyance. Every richly dappled design is given its own name, creating a totally bespoke piece; comb through the latest drop and you’ll come across titles including Petrol, Bubble Gum, Soda and – most aptly, in a beautiful way – Imperfect.
Raw materials are not in short supply; 100 billion pieces of plastic packaging are disposed of in the UK every single year. Palmer reels off an extensive list of sources including ghost fishing nets, DVD cases, yoghurt pots, takeaway boxes, hangers, plant pots, mop buckets and chairs. Neatly, some of the products are made from plastic waste from the hairdressing industry, bringing shampoo and peroxide bottles – donated by fellow bleachcombers – back to their roots.
Palmer has also combined forces with other creatives for collaborative capsules, popping up at the likes of Goodhood and Haeckels and creating a concept store that invited visitors to bring their own plastic. RE=COMB might be Hackney-based, but it’s totally unhackneyed; ever keen to stay fresh, Palmer has expanded into kitsch hair dice, pik combs and barrettes, all daubed in the brand’s signature bacterial hues and sea-anemone tones.
By turning waste into an infinite variety of variegated designs, RE=COMB reminds us of the untold beauty of plastic. Naturally, the material has been bundled together in our minds with pollution and destruction; but renewing it and reviving it into a one-of-one piece – rather than a mass-produced single-use item – draws our attention to its aesthetic value. “The story of turning waste into something desirable and useful is what I find beautiful,” Palmer says.
In the usual fashion, I ask Palmer what she’d like to see More and Less of. Let’s start with the Less. “Single use, excessive wrapping, needless plastic packaging and wishcycling,” she hopes. And the More? “Educating ourselves about plastic, beach clean-ups, making things out of waste and small recycling businesses,” she says. If you’re interested in starting the latter, just remember – if you’d like to truly follow RE=COMB – your first ever prototype should be worthy of your sacred showertime three years later: no pressure, then…
