For the past three years I have been searching for the perfect hair dresser. Yeah, I’m a chick and this shit is important to me (sorry Rick, Enrico and Dad). It seems to me that Italian Coiffure’s are quite expensive or maybe I am just a cheap so and so…probably the latter. Never the less (is that one word? I forget), I have been to the fancy, trendy salons and paid a small fortune to get a cut, colour (had ya fooled didn’t I?), and blow dry. But what truly annoys me about these places is that they all want me to pick a photo from a magazine and get “that” cut. What ever happened to the good old days when all you had to say was, “I like the style, just give it a trim”?
Quite often I’ve opted for the supermarket, do-it-yourself colour for $9.99. (I can’t tell the difference, can you?) But as I get older the grey (ahem, white) seems to get more stubborn about my $9.99 solutions. Recently, I decided to try out the salon near my apartment. But this salon is not trendy, fancy or upscale looking at all. In fact, it looks like a throw back from the 1950’s. You must ring a bell to enter and Frankenstein’s wife answers and is the proprietor. I think it’s like the story about the Cobbler’s kids having no shoes or something…are you following me?
Her hair was a blended mesh of black roots and burned out blonde streaks which were then thrown high and crooked on top of her head with a giant clip. But that’s not all…she had coke-bottle thick glasses and was wearing Birkenstocks’ with black socks that clearly had seen better days but bless her heart for darning the holes in them (who does that anymore?) Oh dear! What do I do now that I’ve rung the door? Do I brave an appointment and risk coming out looking like someone placed a bowl over my head and started to cut? Or worse, like her???
I’ve always had the attitude that it’s just hair and it will in fact grow back so I have had very few meltdowns over a bad cut. So, I decided to throw caution to the wind and get a cut. This woman is a genius! At first I thought oh God, she is butchering me as I saw 3 inches of hair being lopped off like Edward Scissorhands was in the room. But the true test of a good/bad hair cut is the next day when I attempt to recreate something decent looking with my own hairdryer. The results were perfect and the price was reasonable. Not only that, she is really sweet! She chats away about stuff like she is your new best friend. What trendy salon does that?
I remember (only in films of course), how women used to take their “day at the salon” as an excuse to gather with the girls for some gossip and hairspray. I think I may have just discovered the original salon where this sort of things still happens. She natters away and I am nodding my head even though I only got 60% of what she said. What I know for sure is that she is going to a wedding this July and she’s planning on wearing something grey…she showed me the silver purse she already bought for the occasion : )
She makes me want to bake a pie and bring it over for a coffee and chat…sometimes being stuck in the 1950’s is a good thing.