Thursday, November 04, 2004

Dance while you can

The American elections are over.

The desires of the heart are as crooked as corkscrews

I had a haircut today. I hoped it would cheer me up, and it did. I have found a new hairdresser, and I like her.

I told her, "I want to be able to tie my hair back off my neck on hot days, and for it to cover my neck on cold days. And I want it off my face. Aside from that, do what you like."

She grinned and took over. She asked me who cut it last time, and when. At one point, as she was lifting bits of hair and watching how they fell, she laughed and said, "I think your hair must be a real problem for most Japanese hairdressers. They wouldn't know what to do with it. Wavy at the back, straight in the front, really fine, thick, soft... oh, dear. This is not Japanese hair."

She was right. My hair freaks out most Japanese hairdressers. They touch it, shriek, "Eh?" and call their co-workers over to feel it. It's different. I start feeling like I don't have hair; I have some sort of alien substance stuck to my head.

My usual hairdresser, who is the daughter of my old, good hairdresser, who died, hasn't learned as much as I'd hoped she would. She didn't do too badly the first couple of times, but then she started messing up badly. The last cut she gave me was a disaster slightly worse than the disaster she gave me the time before that. I'd hoped she would get used to my hair, but she didn't. I ended up having to get the cut 'repaired' when I visited New Zealand in February, and the hairdresser I went to then told me she'd done her best but basically I'd just have to let it grow out. That's what I've been doing, and tying it back in the meantime.

After some discussion, during which my new hairdresser said "How about...?" and I said, "Whatever you think will look OK," she gave me a sort of bob cut. I liked the way she talked about my hair, as if it was now hers, not mine. "I think I'll grow these bits out," she said, "So I'll leave them for now. And I want to show the wave, so I'll layer it a little bit here..."

"Sounds fine to me," I said, to everything. I'm useless at deciding what to do with my hair. I don't care enough, unless it's really awful.

It was really awful before, but it's not now. She did a good job. I won't need to wear a hat all winter after all.

I'm in the middle of a five-day break. I'm going out with friends tomorrow. We all need cheering up.

Dance till the stars come down from the rafters;
Dance, dance, dance till you drop.


tinyhands said...

I'm pretty useless at telling my "stylist" (aside: I hate that word, but "barber" doesn't apply either) what to do with my hair. Not because I'm y-Chromo but for the practical reason that I can't see my own hair. Sure, I see it when I step out of the shower, but I spend less than 15 minutes in front of a mirror in any given day. Outside of that, I'd rather that YOU like my haircut, as opposed to ME liking it. And that's what I tell my stylist.