Bad Hair Day
Even something as simple as getting your hair done can be a bit of a challenge when you are in a new country without a car. It did narrow the choice for me. Luckily there are at least six within walking distance. Unluckily I chose the wrong one.
I should have known it was too good to be true when I was able to walk in and get my hair done without an appointment. Ellen, my hairdresser, was delighted to welcome me, and said it would be no problem to tint my roots (bet you had no idea this wasn't natural, did you?) Ellen told me she was a grandmother, which in fact came as no surprise since she was babysitting her five year old grand-daughter at the time.
I became a little worried when she pulled out a clutch of hair swatches and tried to match my colour.
"This is the nearest," Ellen declared. "It's very popular."
It was also several shades darker than my hair, but by then she was already squeezing a chocolately goo onto my scalp.
During the 30 minutes it took for the colour to take, she did at least three other hair cuts, although to be fair two were bald old men who would be the first to admit they didn't have much hair to cut.
I decided to go for the barest of trims, just in case. She whizzed the scissors around the edge without a thought for the layers, which in retrospect was just as well. Then she scrubbed the goo out, and popped in another couple of clients before returning to dry it.
Any woman with hair longer than her ear lobes will know how long it takes to get a blow dry in England. My previous hairdresser took ages to carefully section the hair, brushing it through almost hair by hair. And very nice it looked afterwards too.
No such time wasting for Ellen. She roughed my hair up ("ooh you've such a mess of hair") and assaulted it from all angles with the dryer. I'm not sure I ever saw a brush in the salon.
To be fair, it didn't look too bad for a hairdo quarter of the price I pay in England. Then I stood up.
"Oh, oh. There's a little bit of dye on the back of your shirt," Ellen confessed. "It's ok. I can scrub it off with this shampoo. Just make sure you go straight home and soak it. And have $5 off. And take these coupons too."
When I got back, there was indeed a nasty brown smudge all over the collar of my brand new lemon blouse. I've scrubbed and soaked and am currently waiting for it to dry before taking it back to the salon. Still, not many people can boast they have clothes to match their hair...
I should have known it was too good to be true when I was able to walk in and get my hair done without an appointment. Ellen, my hairdresser, was delighted to welcome me, and said it would be no problem to tint my roots (bet you had no idea this wasn't natural, did you?) Ellen told me she was a grandmother, which in fact came as no surprise since she was babysitting her five year old grand-daughter at the time.
I became a little worried when she pulled out a clutch of hair swatches and tried to match my colour.
"This is the nearest," Ellen declared. "It's very popular."
It was also several shades darker than my hair, but by then she was already squeezing a chocolately goo onto my scalp.
During the 30 minutes it took for the colour to take, she did at least three other hair cuts, although to be fair two were bald old men who would be the first to admit they didn't have much hair to cut.
I decided to go for the barest of trims, just in case. She whizzed the scissors around the edge without a thought for the layers, which in retrospect was just as well. Then she scrubbed the goo out, and popped in another couple of clients before returning to dry it.
Any woman with hair longer than her ear lobes will know how long it takes to get a blow dry in England. My previous hairdresser took ages to carefully section the hair, brushing it through almost hair by hair. And very nice it looked afterwards too.
No such time wasting for Ellen. She roughed my hair up ("ooh you've such a mess of hair") and assaulted it from all angles with the dryer. I'm not sure I ever saw a brush in the salon.
To be fair, it didn't look too bad for a hairdo quarter of the price I pay in England. Then I stood up.
"Oh, oh. There's a little bit of dye on the back of your shirt," Ellen confessed. "It's ok. I can scrub it off with this shampoo. Just make sure you go straight home and soak it. And have $5 off. And take these coupons too."
When I got back, there was indeed a nasty brown smudge all over the collar of my brand new lemon blouse. I've scrubbed and soaked and am currently waiting for it to dry before taking it back to the salon. Still, not many people can boast they have clothes to match their hair...
posted by Hilary at
2:16 PM
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