I tend to have a rather close relationship with my hair-dressers. They are the people, standing with sharp scissors close to my crowning glory and I am extremely attached to my hair, so you understand the need. I don’t let just anyone touch my hair. I carefully vet the hair-dressers before I form a bond with them. OK, fine, I go to the one that is closest to my workplace/home. But I tend to give my loyalty only to those that I find deserving. I am not hesitant to check the competition if I feel I cannot connect at a root level.
Since now I am an Expat in my homeland, I have a hair-dresser here and a hair-dresser in my country-in-law. My hair-dressers form a part of my extended family – I can discuss not just the shape and style of my hair-cut, I can also discuss politics and gossip about the latest starlets and their tresses. I relax and let them work their magic.
Both the stylists are talented professionals. What I like the most is, that they take pride in their work. They do not just cut your hair, they perfect it, when required strand by strand! By the Gods, the proportion! They both do not leave anything to chance, they know exactly where that particular wayward strand should go and which length would suit me, the weather and be pleasing to the general public.
They are also artists. Those clips to hold up my hair will not be found in a bowl on that trolley, oh, no, they will be clipped on to their meticulously folded-up sleeve, in a row. The blow-dry is not just a method to dry your hair, it is akin to a chisel, it sculpts your style. Then they tease the individual strands to make me look like ‘not-a-harried-mummy’. They leave their signature on those sublime curls, their visiting card on those sharply defined tips. When I come out of their Hair-studios, I know I am going to turn heads. Alright not everyone but people who knew the ‘before-the-haircut-me’ see the difference in the ‘after-the-haircut-me’.
Explicit trust is a must, especially since I am going to live with that haircut for the next two months, if not longer. I cannot just go back and say, I want my hair back, now can I? I need to be able to really trust, that this man with the scissors, is not going to make me look like a hedgehog at the end of that haircut.
So I sip my coffee while they snip my hair, I preach philosophy, while they perm. For that short while, we sing a comfortable duet.