When I'm in the UK I always try to get my hair cut at the same place. It saves on those agonising conversations that one often seems to have in a new salon when we establish that:
- yes, I do have very fine hair
- yes, it is very straight
- and quite short, yes
- and no, I don't want it too much shorter as I can't take that nowadays (a cut-glass jaw-line no longer being in my possession, sadly)
- I am starting to go grey
- Yes, there does seem to be a lot of that going on around my temples
- But not quite enough to do anything serious about
- No, I don't really want to grow it out. Because of the fine straight thing we already talked about. Because that makes it look shit. And doesn't work on my face. And I really can't face the year or so it will take to make it look like a style instead of just looking like I forgot to fit in a hair cut...
- Can you just get on and give me the same cut I had 2 months ago, please?
So I save myself the pain and go to the same salon that I've been using for 10 years, where I have had my hair cut by the same stylist (a feisty French woman who is searingly chic) for all that time, in the vain hope that some of her chicness will transfer itself to me by osmosis. It hasn't happened yet.
And every time, I have almost the same conversation with myself...
Oh, I want her hair. The long hair. The thick long hair that softly waves at the bottom...
No, no, wait, scratch that. I want that hair. THAT hair - the short and sassy blunt bob sitting just above the shoulders.
Or maybe the mid-length shaggy cut... Stop it Potty. Stop it! You know your look. Short, practical, occasionally a bit funky if the length and humidity are kind to you. It's taken you 40 years to find a cut that works, step away from the style magazines...
But whilst we're at it, how come hair stylists always look so skinny and on-trend? Is that something they learn in hairdresser school? You know; how to throw on a t-shirt, a pair of rock-chick skinny jeans and a little belt and make those of us to whom 'little belts' are a but a distant memory get carried with the right-on-ness of the place and spend far too much on product as we leave?
Is there any way that I could ask them for a hair transplant? Maybe I should get a perm. No, wait. I did that already. In the 80's. The poodle hair photos are still too horrible to look at.
So, over to get my hair washed. And no, they still haven't changed the set-up - I still have to climb into the barber's chair whilst some teenager half my size has to try gamely to pump it up to the right height for the sink... Maybe I should offer to climb out so she can do that without giving herself an embolism? No. Better not. That would just draw attention to an already embarrassing situation.
Ho hum.
She's still pumping. Perhaps those extra helpings of bread and cheese and the one or two glasses of rose on holiday weren't such a good idea after all...
Right. Rolled up towel over the eyes. I. Am. Liking that. I can think about lists and worries without having to make conversation... or, I can nod off whilst she shampoos, conditions, rinses, and gives me a lovely head massage and............
God! Is that over already? Did I nod off? Did I dribble? Please god, let me not have dribbled. Oh, thank heavens. No drool-patch on my shoulder. Although the towel seems suspiciously damp around my face. In fact, maybe that's why they use the towel; to save their clients blushes...
Ah. Yes. What would I like? Well can you change the nature and colour of my hair to something like yours (long, black, straight, possessing about 3 times as much body as I get with the most powerful hair dryer known to man), in a limited time-frame and on a limited budget? No?
Same as usual then, please.
And yes. I WILL buy that new product to try at home. Obviously.
