Point, Nod, and Hope

While I am used to paying for a good haircut (a lesson from my dad), I decided a week or so ago that I wasn’t going to pay a hefty price for what I suspected would be a mediocre first cut no matter where I went. Skipping out on several trendy salons on our street that charged upwards of US$40 for a cut with extra costs if you wanted an “experienced” or “senior” stylist, I chose a smaller establishment about a 5 minutes walk from our apartment that was still in a trendy area but that offered a cut and shampoo for about US$17. I never chose a salon based on location in the US, but here, the fact that there was a cute lamp shop next door and several good restaurants, told me that this shop probably saw a lot of clientele that were similar to me.

Louie was a nice guy, about my age, and for all that I know, this could have been his first cut. The shop stood empty when I entered but then it’s a rainy afternoon in the middle of the week. Small talk is always something I’ve enjoyed when getting a cut. I usually take off my glasses, rendering myself blind, and immediately engage my barber in discussion, comforting my vulnerabilities in the belief that if I just keep talking that somehow I’ll come out looking better. Because really, it’s a situation out of my control but that I will have to live with for the next month.

When I realized that Louie knew very little English, I decided not to fight. So, it was flip, point, and hope. Glasses coming off, I succumbed to the realities and told Louie, “I trust you,” which seemed to be the only English words in our 30 minutes together that he understood, and I think appreciated. I became quiet, closed my eyes, and listened to buzz of the razor and the snip of the scissor. While I tried not to think, I did – over and over again. “I had dressed for the look I wanted – button-up shirt, belt, and jeans. All Louie has to do was to put the hair style in place.” Usually it’s better to use a simpler phrase for meditation, but this seemed to work.

Want to know what happened? Suffice it to say I didn’t bleed to death from a misplace scissor swipe. As for the cut, I’m not sure I could say if it’s good or bad. The experience was too much. I’m just relieved it’s done.

Yes, that's me wearing an apron and cooking dinner;-) Anyway, let me know what you think of my slightly pointy cut and whether I should go back to Louie and Peel Hair Workshop.

P.S. Eric swears that I look like Tin Tin. Comments are also welcome (but feared).