It was my 6-weekly visit to the hairdresser today. This time for “foils” which is when a little extra colour help is applied. I also get a couple of shampoos and a cut and bow-dry. In other words a couple of hours of pampering.
When I first arrived the assistant who does the hair-washing ushered me to a chair and asked how I was. I decided to be honest and so I said, “In need of some TLC,” she laughed and promised to do her best. After the stylist had been doing her bit with the cutting, shaping and colouring, I felt very relaxed, the radio was playing, I was in a corner, I sipped my tea and found myself drifting off into a very happy doze. Oops! When the Junior came to take me for the next wash I nearly jumped out of the chair.
But what else did I get at the hairdresser’s?
- I really did get the TLC and pampering, so that was good.
- A dose of local politics and insight into health issues.
- Opinion on the upcoming Referendum on Independence for Scotland.
- Advice on the 2:5 diet.
- That cup of tea.
- A sense of well-being.
- Information on gluten-free shopping in one of the town’s supermarkets.
- My usual reminder that big and glossy is not always best – my hair salon is small, relatively informal and utilising economical products.
Quite a lot then for a routine appointment, though it did make me wonder if I should treat myself to a massage or a facial sometime. Unfortunately my usual hairdresser’s shop does not offer such exotica . . . . . . . . but I know a spa-type salon in a nearby hotel. . .
My hairstylist is a Christian refugee from Lebanon, and cute as can be. Half of his clients are in love with him. He and I have been together for some time, and as I age, I notice he has too.
We talk about serious stuff, the persecution of Christians, Hezbollah, the war in Syria. Factions in the Middle East. Al Kaida. Sometimes we talk about gardening and our local rabbit population.
I don’t know what others discuss with him. But He enjoys talking with me (several of the 9-11 madmen lived in this city).
My husband always comes with me. N keeps candy on the counter for him.
After Katrina my hairdresser of more than a decade relocated. After 2008 retirement, I called it quits on finding one who could deal with my hair without my always leaving assuring myself my hair would grow back out. I started cutting my own hair and let it go gray. Post-stroke, Hubby gives me haircuts.
I was experiencing a twinge or two of envy at your and Dianne’s salon experiences. Then I realized that I feel pampered, too, and those interesting conversations with my hairdresser come throughout the day.