I recently chopped all my hair off. I mean, not ALL of it, but a significant portion of it. I love it. I really do love having a pixie cut. I think its reflective of my sassy, spunky personality and the low-maintenance part of styling it is awesome.
But I have to get it cut every 5 weeks. Or so they tell me. I don't know who "they" are.
Usually I'm a go-to-great-clips-get-a-15-dollar-haircut sort of person. However, since it seems a little more risky with short hair, I started calling salons.
I kid you not I had a lady say this to me, "Sorry, all of our stylists are booked. They simply cannot take on any new clients."
This makes no sense to me. Hair culture is something very new to me. This sort of a reply would make sense if I was looking for a therapist or a literary agent (cough- I am looking for an agent- cough), but for a haircut. I told her, "I'm just trying to get a haircut. I'm not looking for a long-term relationship."
Apparently I should have been.
The good news: I found a place that could cut my hair. I called on Wednesday and they had an opening at 2 on Friday. After that, the next opening for ANY stylist was in three weeks. I was itching for a haircut so I took the 2pm and decided I would have to find a babysitter.
Let me skip the boring parts.
Kids are with a friend. I'm sitting in the chair after the lady washes my hair and she drapes the vampire cape over me and says, "I'm a level 3 stylist, so my cuts are 49 dollars."
"49 dollars?" I swivel to look at her face instead of her reflection. "For a cut?"
"Yes. I'm a level three stylist."
Well EXCUSE me. I had no idea that cosmetology was that closely related to dungeons and dragons! Level 3 stylist. Who knew that was even a thing? I didn't say any of that. I considered leaving or asking if there were any Level 1 stylists available. But the kids were with a sitter and I was already here. The hassle of getting a different hair appointment might be worth the money. "I guess it's a little late to say no."
So she began and I started talking about my kids and my husband. She lowered her sissors. "I don't want to hear about your kids. I don't want to hear about your husband. This is your YOU time. When you come in here, you aren't a mom. You aren't a wife. You are just you."
I'm sure she meant it in the kindest way possible, but it wasn't a kind thing to say, regardless of intent. I'm defined greatly by my roles as a mother and wife.
I didn't say much for the rest of the haircut. Then when she was done cutting she said, "Hows this?"
I pullled out my phone and asked, "Will I potentially be able to style it like this?" Is the top short enough for me to do that? Because this is a sweet look."
"I can't make you look like Jennifer Lawrence, no."
I farced a laugh. "I'm just asking about her hair."
"What product would I need to get texture like this?"
She reaches over to her table, opens a pomade and rubs it in my hair. Four minutes later and with some blow drying, I looked more like this.
Yeah...those aren't the same hairstyles.....at all...
But it had been an hour and I didn't want wear out my babysitter. So I said it was fine and I walked with her up to the front.
She starts talking to her friend the cashier. "49 for the cut, and 19 for styling it, and this is the pomade that she wanted, and here's the round brush that I used."
The cashier smiles at me. "Okay honey, that'll be $119. How much of a tip do you want to leave?"
All I can think is 119....119...119. That's more than I've spent on my hair care in the last three years COMBINED.
Apparently blow drying my hair to look like Miley cost me 19 dollars and my question regarding which product meant, "Open a $20 pomade and use some in my hair so that I have to buy it."
The only one I argued out of was the brush. I guess I'M the bad guy cause I refused to tip her.
And I won't be going back.
Hence, Wanted: New Stylist.