Gie It Laldy
I've been going to the same hairdresser for a few years now, and I really like it there. It's a nice place, but it's not one of those salons where everyone looks like they're sucking a lemon and they look down their nose at you because you committed the cardinal sin of wearing shoes that don't match your belt/handbag/hair accessory.
At my hairdresser, as in salons everywhere, it's always been the case that once you've spoken to your stylist about what you want, one of the juniors, a wee 16 year old girl, washes your hair for you. However, in the last couple of years I've noticed that all the juniors are male. It's at least 4 cuts ago that I last got a female junior. Which is fine - the boys are just as nice. They chat to you when you've got your head in the weird sink with the hole that's supposed to be comfy (but isn't because whose head is shaped like THAT?), and I've never noticed any real difference between them. I'm sure it says something trenchant about industry and society and so forth, that more boys are opting to be hairdressers rather than engineers.
But that's not my point.
I went for a haircut on Friday, and got a new boy that I'd never seen before. He sat me down, and gently tucked a towel into my collar to stop my neck getting wet. He switched the water on and waited till it was the right temperature. He asked me a number of times if the water was too hot. He then applied the shampoo and started lathering me up. And by god, he applied himself to the task of washing my hair with every bit of muscle and sinew in his upper body. Of which there was considerably more than wee Chantelle has in her upper body, let me tell you.
This boy gave new meaning to the phrase 'gie it laldy'.
He had lots of beaded bracelets on his wrists, so in addition to feeling like my head was in a washing machine on spin cycle, there was a racket right in my ear from all his jewellery clinking about. I was sure the rest of the salon could hear the noise over the hairdryers, ringing phones, chattering and general hullabaloo. My neck was aching from the effort of trying to keep my head in the general vicinity of the sink, and the robe they put over me was sprayed with shampoo. It was the single most vigorous wash my hair has ever had. My hair has responded by being very unruly all weekend. It's obviously rebelling against the rough treatment.
The worst thing was that while I was in the chair I found the whole thing hilarious. This poor boy was doing the hairdresser thing, asking about my holiday plans and what I was doing at the weekend, and I was desperately trying not to laugh because all I could think about was that it felt like he was wanking my head.
If you'll excuse the expression.
At my hairdresser, as in salons everywhere, it's always been the case that once you've spoken to your stylist about what you want, one of the juniors, a wee 16 year old girl, washes your hair for you. However, in the last couple of years I've noticed that all the juniors are male. It's at least 4 cuts ago that I last got a female junior. Which is fine - the boys are just as nice. They chat to you when you've got your head in the weird sink with the hole that's supposed to be comfy (but isn't because whose head is shaped like THAT?), and I've never noticed any real difference between them. I'm sure it says something trenchant about industry and society and so forth, that more boys are opting to be hairdressers rather than engineers.
But that's not my point.
I went for a haircut on Friday, and got a new boy that I'd never seen before. He sat me down, and gently tucked a towel into my collar to stop my neck getting wet. He switched the water on and waited till it was the right temperature. He asked me a number of times if the water was too hot. He then applied the shampoo and started lathering me up. And by god, he applied himself to the task of washing my hair with every bit of muscle and sinew in his upper body. Of which there was considerably more than wee Chantelle has in her upper body, let me tell you.
This boy gave new meaning to the phrase 'gie it laldy'.
He had lots of beaded bracelets on his wrists, so in addition to feeling like my head was in a washing machine on spin cycle, there was a racket right in my ear from all his jewellery clinking about. I was sure the rest of the salon could hear the noise over the hairdryers, ringing phones, chattering and general hullabaloo. My neck was aching from the effort of trying to keep my head in the general vicinity of the sink, and the robe they put over me was sprayed with shampoo. It was the single most vigorous wash my hair has ever had. My hair has responded by being very unruly all weekend. It's obviously rebelling against the rough treatment.
The worst thing was that while I was in the chair I found the whole thing hilarious. This poor boy was doing the hairdresser thing, asking about my holiday plans and what I was doing at the weekend, and I was desperately trying not to laugh because all I could think about was that it felt like he was wanking my head.
If you'll excuse the expression.
Labels: Hair
This entry was posted
on Sunday, February 04, 2007 at 2:16 pm.
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I thought P cut your hair?
That's a far more glamorous occasion. It takes place in her garage.
Still I get such a pleasing hair cut I fly over from Brussels.
No head rub thought
She did - it's easier to just go into the salon now though. Plus I don't like bothering her all the time.
Not sure I would miss the head massage though...
Well she has her own business now and is desp for customers. She's got quite professional in it all with converted garage and appointment book. . .
It’s no longer a question of getting her to squeeze you in between her other full time job.
Anyway, just let me know when you’re going and I promise to come rub your scalp
I had mine done on Friday and I would have welcomed a young lad as opposed to the surly and sniffling teenager who washed mine...
Thanks Teeny - after a long day at work that made me laugh.
I had a similar experience with an extremely camp make up artist a few years ago - he was somewhat lacking the feminine touch, despite his best efforts...:-)
DQ - I didn't know that, will bear in mind next time I need a trim. And I look forward to a head massage from The Queen.
Cat - I'll give you the name of the salon if you want to try your luck! Be warned though, I staggered away from the sink in a state of shock. You may want to take a friend or relative with you.
James - you are most welcome #bows#
Elisabeth - that's exactly what it is, he lacked the feminine touch. Bless his heart!
I far prefer male juniors, but probably BECAUSE they lack the feminine touch: a firm head rub is always a winner with me.
I think there's only one man in the salon I visit, and he owns the place. Seems to be there purely for the purpose of flirting with all the old ladies...
Hi Hannah - I know what you mean, there's no point if you can hardly feel it. But this boy took the cake... It was most uncomfortable! Hopefully someone will give him some pointers for the next time.
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