Saturday, January 2, 2010

new year, new you

I see a hairdresser in my town once a month for color and when I want a great haircut I travel 2 hours to Scottsdale to see my fabulous Roscoe.

Roscoe has everything you want and need for a great cut. He keeps up with the latest and greatest in fashion, always has his iPhone ready in case we need a picture of a celebrity's hair I wanna-be like, and is always dressed in some up and coming designer. Expensive but he's worth it. He's the epitome of the perfect hair guy.

One of my unsaid, unwritten New Year's resolutions is to branch out open to try new things. I decided to try a new hairdresser in our town that was recommended to me by a mom at the school where I teach. I don't really know too much about the mom except she has that 1970's Farrah hair ( I'm a sucker for seventies style ) and I am going to be more open and branch out to new people...remember?

My first warning sign was when "Mike" the hairdresser (Strike ONE: not even a hairdresser name; I asked if it was "Michael") told me where his just moved salon was and that it was "different" and he hoped I was okay with it being above a bar and was I okay with nude paintings on the wall. Wha??!

Okay, okay...I'm fine with that. But, when I walked in and met Mike I had to wonder if this was a joke. He looked a little like actor Charles Durning (go ahead and took me 2 days to think of this actor's name) except he was playing it uber-cool with a backwards baseball cap. I kid you not. Strike TWO: dressing and looking like you just rolled out of bed when you meet a new client is SO not cool in my book)

When he paid close attention to my hair and was asking lots of questions I thought this was a good sign and then it just became annoying. I want my hairdresser to have confidence, to tell me how fabulous my hair looks and not let me know that "if you don't like it, you can come back in a couple of days and I can fix it."

Note: I've got thick, wavy, coarse hair and you'll need a straightener/flat iron to pull off the finished style. One guy in Vegas got carpal tunnel by just using a round brush to dry my hair--but God bless his wrists- the hair looked fabulous.
Mike does not have a flat iron and he isn't that great at blowing out the mane. Strike THREE: you're out.

I only asked for a trim so I knew that whatever the outcome it wouldn't be "wear a bag" on my head hair but looks like I won't be going back to see those nude paintings anytime soon.