I’m not fond of trips to the hairdresser. I have my reasons. One is their careless talk and love of their own reflections.
One time, for example, I foolishly decided, like one does, that my style needed a change. I made an appointment. The hairdresser was delighted to have the opportunity to cut off swathes of my long hair and make it short. How she eulogised about the time she had been at a hairdressing exhibition, cutting and styling all day.
“We had a book of styles,” she bragged. “We knew them all by letter. This is a J.”
Her hey-day had obviously been sometime in the seventies. When I looked in the mirror a Purdey cut looked back at me. I went home and implored it to grow.
Unbelievably I went back to the same stylist when I was planning my wedding. This time it was just for a trim. We discussed my impending nuptials.
“Women of our age,” she said grandly, admiring herself in the mirror, “should wear hats, not veils.”
She was 15 years older than me. I wore a veil and someone else styled my hair.
When Hannah and Rosie were very small I went through a mobile hairdresser phase. It was easier to cut the hair of the wriggling toddlers at home. K, the hairdresser, was going to Slimming World. The last time she visited she had obviously reached her target.
“Mummy,” whispered Rosie, loudly. “It looks like a new K.”
The compliment went to K’s head. She chopped and cut as usual (daunting to a hairdresser-phobe without a mirror for reassurance). Then K glanced at my bookshelves.
“You’ve got a lot of diet books,” said the newly-slim K smugly.
She was looking at ‘The 30-day Fatburner diet’ by Patrick Holford and ‘The Money Diet’ by Martyn Lewis and three shelves of cookery books. On the first I successfully lost 32lbs. On the second I gained a couple of hundred £s.
K hasn’t been back since.
But I think my fear/phobia of hairdressers began in my early teens. Tumbling curls were fashionable and that was in my mind when I took my long, thick auburn hair to hairdresser for a perm. She wound and wound on to tiny little rollers. My eyes watered and stung at the pong of the perm lotion. Afterwards, the hairdresser turned proudly away for me to assess my reflection.
“Woof,” I said sadly to the poodle in the mirror.
“Woof! Woof! Woof!” said the bullies at school.
One time, for example, I foolishly decided, like one does, that my style needed a change. I made an appointment. The hairdresser was delighted to have the opportunity to cut off swathes of my long hair and make it short. How she eulogised about the time she had been at a hairdressing exhibition, cutting and styling all day.
“We had a book of styles,” she bragged. “We knew them all by letter. This is a J.”
Her hey-day had obviously been sometime in the seventies. When I looked in the mirror a Purdey cut looked back at me. I went home and implored it to grow.
Unbelievably I went back to the same stylist when I was planning my wedding. This time it was just for a trim. We discussed my impending nuptials.
“Women of our age,” she said grandly, admiring herself in the mirror, “should wear hats, not veils.”
She was 15 years older than me. I wore a veil and someone else styled my hair.
When Hannah and Rosie were very small I went through a mobile hairdresser phase. It was easier to cut the hair of the wriggling toddlers at home. K, the hairdresser, was going to Slimming World. The last time she visited she had obviously reached her target.
“Mummy,” whispered Rosie, loudly. “It looks like a new K.”
The compliment went to K’s head. She chopped and cut as usual (daunting to a hairdresser-phobe without a mirror for reassurance). Then K glanced at my bookshelves.
“You’ve got a lot of diet books,” said the newly-slim K smugly.
She was looking at ‘The 30-day Fatburner diet’ by Patrick Holford and ‘The Money Diet’ by Martyn Lewis and three shelves of cookery books. On the first I successfully lost 32lbs. On the second I gained a couple of hundred £s.
K hasn’t been back since.
But I think my fear/phobia of hairdressers began in my early teens. Tumbling curls were fashionable and that was in my mind when I took my long, thick auburn hair to hairdresser for a perm. She wound and wound on to tiny little rollers. My eyes watered and stung at the pong of the perm lotion. Afterwards, the hairdresser turned proudly away for me to assess my reflection.
“Woof,” I said sadly to the poodle in the mirror.
“Woof! Woof! Woof!” said the bullies at school.
I know what you mean, It takes me ages to find a hairdresser I like, and when I do , they suddenly leave, and I 'm back into panic mode about who should do my hair.
ReplyDeleteI hubby hates hair dresser/barbers so much I have to do it, got quite good actually, and he makes me talk about holidays and what he's going to do at the weekend whilst I do it!
Love the cat photo, poor thing!
I hate going to hairdressing salons as well. All that inane chat about holidays etc and sitting having to look at one's reflection in the mirror. And a huge bill!
ReplyDeleteNow I am so lucky in that a friend up the road does my hair, she works part time in the best salon round here and she is an excellent cutter, colourer and stylist even though she trained as a 'mature' student. She has a flair. We just talk about local life, our families etc and she is a lovely person. She makes us tea or coffee and always gives us cake, M comes as well and there's a cosy sofa to sit on with a wee dog who cooches up next to you and the latest Sunday and local papers and Welsh mags. Her house has good vibes, a Welsh poet used to live there. So now I love going to have my hair done and always find it so relaxing.
Caitx
PS I have forwarded the free range chicken link to loads of people this morning.
ahhh! Very funny last bit about the woof. So many of my friends seem to go to the hairdressers every MONTH. I'm twice yearly at best - it's the mirror, the pathetic assumption it's going to look good, the handing over of £30 - mind you, it shows, and terribly needs doing. You've reminded me to leave it another month though!
ReplyDeleteOh heck, I sympathise totally. I had a poodle perm when I was sixteen, right before my hot date with the boy I'd fancied for years (and who my foster-sister had successfully nabbed beforehand)....needless to say it was a first and last date....
ReplyDeleteI have been through so many hairdressers, I have lost count. Never dared do the home visit type but have had some true horrors.
My present one is completely mad but in a good way - he's nearly sixty but very trendy and spot-on with the new hairstyles - so much so that he gave me a beehive a la Winehouse last visit! Tad scary. His salon is fabulous with huge ornate gilded mirrors and over the top chandeliers (and - totally amazing - he isn't gay).... I like it because we always have a laugh, there is usually a bottle of champagne open and he often runs out to get chocolate to keep everyone going. The whole salon ends up chatting or gossiping about whatever nad it's a hoot. Come to think of it, I'm going tomorrow - hurrah!
Sorry, that was a bit me me me.....
Hairdressers scare me to death - seen too many horror results. I don't like my hair particularly but don't want to hate it. When my eldest daughter was modelling the things they would do to her hair just for a shoot were beyond belief - blue goo one time, hair extensions that we couldnt get out another, red dye that was supposed to wash out - yeah right! A friend, who is a hairdresser, does mine.
ReplyDeleteDo hairdressers do courses in bad chair side manner? Seems like it!
ReplyDeleteI actually enjoy going to the hairdressers. I usually go about every 6 weeks and have a colour and a trim. My hair is red and I have it coloured a deep shade like a red wine. We always have a really got natter and it doesn't cost me a fortune either!
ReplyDeleteCrystal xx
I sympathised with this - I used to hate going to the hairdresser with a passion. About seven years ago I started going to someone I really like and the only problem is that I am so attached to her I trail an hour and a half to Manchester because I can't face going through the pain of finding someone else.
ReplyDeleteSad little poodle tale!
I loved this post. So nice to know I am not the only one who finds hairdressers a 'nessesary' evil!
ReplyDelete