Confessions Of A Salon-Hopper

Yes, yes, it’s true. I admit it. I am a salon-hopper. I wonder how many others are like me, hiding this shameful secret. Of course, I imagine many who know me would not be surprised by this revelation, based simply on my lack of hair-chic. I’m not really sure when it all started. I do know that I have yearned to be like other, normal females for a very long time. You know…the kind who have a regular hair stylist to whom they bid their undying loyalty. And visit, without hesitation, every 6 weeks. Or is it 4 weeks? Three weeks?? That’s right: I don’t even know the correct interval of proper hair maintainance. And this is my shame.

I guess my problem is that, as much as I would love to have a really great hair style, I’ve always had a bit of an adventurous streak in me, combined with an aversion to spending a sick amount of money on hair. I can easily go from below shoulder-length too super short without blinking, reassuring the nervous hairdresser that everything will be just fine.  If I feel like a salon is mid-level high-end, that is, a step above the chains, but without the snobbery or intimidation factor of the super-glamorous places,  and offer mid pricing, I feel comfortable walking in, sitting down and saying to the complete stranger grasping the scissors, “Do with me what thou wilt.” or something like that…

Friends gasp upon hearing this daring attitude. But I feel like, hey, it’s only hair, for goodness sake. I mean, it grows back. And, way too fast for my liking. Some people get SO bent out of shape about their hair. It’s ridiculous.  One girl I know (who is very much into the pretense of perceived class) has bragged about her search for the “right” stylist, traveling quite a distance, to a foo-foo salon conducting a series of interviews for her prospective hair-doer. I mean…really? This girl’s hair always looks the same. I mean it  looks nice, but the same. And, in all fairness, I do let the stylist know that I’m really not into the “club” scene or anything too freaky. Truth be told, they can usually tell just from looking at me, though – definitely a suburban mom look.  Honestly, I’d be happy with a cool suburban mom look. They do too exist.

Typically, I’ll find a trendy place to go and I’ll get a great cut. But, then something happens which leads me to conclude, “Oh great, now I can’t go back there again.”  For instance, one time, I went to a girl named Beth at kind of a posh place. And, Beth did a nice job on my hair, too, but my problem with her was…well actually, there were a couple problems. First, she was, in the lingo of Seinfeld, a low-talker. I could never hear what the heck she was saying. And she loved to talk. So, while the blow-dryer was loudly blowing my hair, I’d be looking in the mirror at Beth, who was happily gabbing away, rarely taking a breath. Even after the blow-dryer was off, I’d still be straining to hear her. It was exhausting and quite stressful. I never had a clue what we were talking about. Another thing about Beth was, disaster seemed to be her close friend. I would often get calls from her to reschedule my appointment because she was in the hospital emergency room, stranded in a snowstorm in Wisconsin, waiting for roadside assistance because of a flat tire on her way to work, etc, etc. It was on one of those occasions that I simply rescheduled with another girl named Leslie. Leslie was perfect. I could understand her and we had a lot in common and she gave me a great cut. But, then came the awkward part where I wanted to start seeing her and cut it off with Beth, but didn’t see how I could pull it off.  I thought about scheduling my appointments on Beth’s days off, but couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that I was cheating on Beth. So, we had to break up…  And I had to look for another salon.

The next place found me with Agnes. She was Polish, I think, and amazing with hair. But, she complained incessantly. About anything and everything. She was a real downer. Since she did such a great job with my hair, though, I figured I could handle it. I’m pretty tough, after all. Then, one day, she excitedly told me that she’d received a promotion at the salon. “Great” I said, anxious to keep the conversation going in a positive direction. And, because of this new promotion, her prices were going to be raised. Wait…what?? Well, I just didn’t like her that much. So, a new search began…

Other things that turn me off? I do not like being scolded or asked in a completely disdainful way “Who did your hair before?” or “Do you color your own hair?” or “What products do you use?” or “When was the last time your hair was cut?” or “Your ends are a mess.” You get the idea.  I also am not interested in talking or hearing about the stylist’s love life. Granted, the young ones can’t help being young, but I’m just so past “So what are your plans for Valentine’s Day?” kinds of conversations. Valentine’s Day? Ummm…nothing. I’m married. With kids.  

I recently stumbled upon a new place and this one just might work. My daughter went there last week and had her hair cut and highlighted for the first time, getting a make-over for college 🙂  She looks great. The salon appears to be very approachable and not intimidating. The stylists don’t all have jet black hair. On that note, once when I was in a chair getting a cut, I happened to notice that every single stylist had black, black, really black hair. When mine walked away to talk to a group of others, I couldn’t remember which one belonged to me. They seriously all looked exactly the same. It was really weird. I was trying to remember what color top she was wearing. Probably black. That was a one-time visit, too.  So, wish me luck with this new place.  I’m afraid I’m getting a reputation…