Cultured Views

There was a time when I enjoyed the luxury of having my hair done at the hairdressers on a fortnightly basis, only back then I did not consider it a luxury – it was just a part of my normal routine. It can take a woman years, and many bad haircuts, before she finds THE hairstylist that she has been waiting to meet all her life.

And we all know what that means too don’t we girls…?

There are hairdressers and there are downright vandals. As today is a crap weather day (Arnold spends this kind of day in bed doing mundane things like looking up an online auto insurance quote…boring)  I am off to get the full treatment done; foils, conditioning and restyling and as I have found a great stylist it is a pleasure and indeed a luxury for this Mum-of-five to get a couple of hours respite in the salon. I have been the victim of several stylists-from-hell; back in the days of ‘streaks’ (pre-foils for the uninitiated) one girl sat down to pull my hair through the rubber cap immediately after an argument over the phone with her boyfriend – she almost scalped me in her bad mood.

Another stylist did not inform me that perming streaked blonde highlighted hair would result in me looking like a deranged poodle and another assured me that the mahogany shade I had chosen would look ‘subtle and refreshing’…instead I looked like I was wearing one of those coloured nylon novelty wigs that kids wear to parties. But no doubt funny things can make you laugh; my sister asked me to home-dye her hair from brown to a darker shade and bought a home colour kit. Her hair was cut quite short back then and I applied the dye which went rather darker than it showed on the front of the packet.

The result was my sister looking like Jan Brady when she bought the short, dark, curly wig to wear to a party (those who grew up in the 70′s will remember…). She bought my assurances that it would fade with washing and that it did not look too bad – but when her husband came home from work it all went to pieces. He took one look and, knowing better than to laugh, a huge vein bulged on his forehead instead. He told her it look fine but ‘the vein’ gave it all away…he finally admitted he thought it was hilarious. He also slept on the sofa that night…

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