Wash, Cut and Find-a-Man

It had been a couple of months since my return from G Town and the intense heat and humidity of the Torrana summer was playing havoc with my tresses.  After two years of being pampered with a personal hair stylist by way of VBF's mum in law, going out and finding a new hairdresser was just as daunting as looking for a new soul mate.

A referral from my cousin who, has what I will politely call "problematic" hair saw me making an appointment with a salon in Korea town. I figured that any hair dresser who could manage the cousin's mop presentable was worth a shot.

Stepping into the salon, I was met with a chorus of greetings and a line of broadly grinning Korean people. The manager-lady approached me (still grinning) and a little flustered, I shook my hair out of the confining ponytail and blurted, "I need help!" Surveying my tousled locks with a stern eye, manager-lady replied with an emphatic "YES. We help. Lots." and without further ado hustled me into a chair and whipped a cape around my shoulders.

Now before I booked the appointment, I got all sorts of hints and tips from my pals. "Be firm", I had been told. "Let them know that you've done your homework and that you know EXACTLY what you want." And so, I proceeded to describe in great detail my idea of the perfect cut. At the end of my (rather long winded) speech, manager-lady looks me square in the eyes in the mirror and says, "No. That makes you look crap. We do this....." and outlines her plan. Too stunned at her point blank refusal, I could only nod weakly at her ideas.

Like a seasoned pro, she began snipping away all the while keeping up a rapid fire line of questions:
- Where you from?
- What you do?
- Where are your Mummy-Daddy?
- You marry? No? No good.
- WHY you no brush hair??

My feeble attempts at viable responses were translated into Korean for the rest of the room and at each response there would be murmurs of approval (or not!). By the time she translated the final question, the consensus was unanimous and my lack of hair-care skills was loudly discussed with much clicking of the tongues and shaking of the heads.

The whole thing was over in what seemed like mere minutes. Perhaps it was because I had been so intent on answering the questions - and then defending my answers - that I had barely noticed that my hair had been cut, styled and set. And wow, I looked GOOD! Better still, when it came to the payment I was pleasantly surprised to find out that it was only $25. Apparently, the life lessons were thrown in for free.

As I thanked manager-lady and bid goodbye to the rest of the salon, her final words followed me out into the street. "Girl, you brush hair.... you find man!"

Sage advice indeed! 

Fashion Fix - The Summer Camp Edition

When I packed for 7 weeks of summer camp, I included all sorts of practical wear that I figured would come in use for activities involving kids. Stuff that would bode well with arts and crafts sessions involving glue guns gone wild and for days at the beach where I would probably fall over into a pile of soggy seaweed. Jeans, shorts, a couple of scraggy tees and a tank top or two for those extra hot summer days. Same with the shoes - runners, a pair of sandals and flip flops for the beach. Heck, in fact when finally zipped up my bags I was convinced I had in fact over packed!

Turns out I was very wrong. Apparently the memo about after work shenanigans was lost in the mail and so I ended up being the only person on campus who didn't come prepared for multiple nights out at one of the local clubs on (aptly named) Messy Mondays. My colleagues were further shocked to also find out that I hadn't even brought a hair drier and hairbrush; the former on purpose, the latter an oversight. The shock turned to abject horror when they realised that I wasn't too concerned about the lack of hair equipment and declared that my fingers would be fine enough combs. After all I figured, who was even going to be looking?

My colleagues on the other hand had not only got the memo, they'd anticipated all sorts of events including, I believe a Papal visit and planned accordingly. Only that would explain the multiple bags that most of them had brought along. All of this made little sense to me especially since most of the time we were all garbed in those hideous orange t-shirts that passed for a uniform!

After dodging going out for the first few Monday nights by crying poverty, I had little choice after we got our first pay cheques. Fortunately, I had been scheduled for a visit to Portsmouth with a group and a quick poke around the sale bins found me appropriate club attire. But even that wasn't enough. Apparently, my total lack of fashion sense (and sensibilities) and my indifference to doing anything to rectify that had instigated an intervention. While they simultaneously did my hair, tweezed my brows and dabbed on makeup, I came to realise just how bad I was at being a girl. There were at least four of my male colleagues who could not only wield a hair straightener better than me, but also owned their own and most of the boys owned up to being in possession of more hair and beauty products than I even knew existed!

Readers, the kids weren't the only ones getting an education at summer camp. And judging by what I learned that Monday night, I had miles to go before I was going to be able to graduate from the school of Being A Girl.

Headshots

Before

After

Quick Fix

The hair situation had gotten to a critical point. I was utterly miserable in the knowledge that I looked good.... but felt terrible! So I called my hairdresser and begged her to "fit it".

And the doll that she is she managed to find 10 minutes in her busy busy day today to squeeze me in and tame my locks.

I am now the proud owner of a brand new "do".

And I'm loving it!!!

Mirror Mirror.....

Had a session with my hairdresser last Saturday as split ends were rampant. Lamented the fact that my hair looks "Blah." She gave me a new cut and style that looked great as I left the salon. Two days later, as I left for work on Monday morning I was struggling to come to terms with new hair. I realised that there was not so much love happening any more. In fact, I rather hated it!

To my surprise,
My coworker Ms. Shopaholic: I LOVE your new look! So trendy!
My other coworker Ms. Fashioneesta: Amazing cut! Love the lines!

Neither of these girls would say something they don't mean. It's not in their nature. They both reacted with genuine delight to my new style. Problem is - I STILL hated it! Every time I look in the mirror (or any reflective surface for that matter) I see a girl with helmet head. A weirdo style that does not gel with the personality. I am no style queen. I am certainly no trend follower. My hair is currently incongruent with the rest of me, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it. I cannot chop off all my hair as I am supposed to be growing it out for the September wedding. So does this mean I have to go through summer with this miserable mop? I suppose I should be glad that at outwardly I (supposedly) look good. Inwardly, I’m not so sure.

In Need of Hairapy

Two months ago as I was wandering down University Ave, I was approached by a young man. Instead of the usual plea for money, he offered me an amazing promotion with a local salon. For a mere $46, I would receive a coupon that entitled me to 4 visits for (1) hair wash, cut and style (2) manicure (3) mini pedicure and polish (4) follow up hair treatment.

I bought 2 coupons before the guy had even finished with the pitch!

Almost immediately, I experienced oodles of guilt as going to someone else for a haircut was tantamount to cheating on Connie who’s been my amazing stylist for the past year. Before that I went to a tres expensive salon in Yorkville and when I finally made the break and “took up” with Connie, I felt like a dirty cheating ho.

What IS it about hairdressers that make you SO guilty when you want to go somewhere else?

Full of shame for my durrrty durrty deeds, I called Connie and made a full confession. Only after I had procured her blessings to go to another hairdresser, did I start to feel better about the whole situation.

Anyway, have made me an appointment for Friday, July 27th. Hope it works out as I have a summer partay to attend the next day where I’m hoping my new locks will make a favourable and lasting impression on a certain someone.

Or, things can go horribly wrong and I will be severely punished for even attempting to cheat on my beloved Connie and will have to attend said party wearing concealing scarf on head.

My new nightly prayer: Hair Angels, be gentle with me. I have had many trials of late and would not withstand an attack on my luscious locks. Thanks very much, Amen.