Friday, febrary 01, 2008

At the Hairdressers

And now I want to talk about hairdressers. What’s the link with migration you might ask. Well, I found that hairdressers (at least, some of them) are the same all over the world. I got nothing against hairdressers, they´re just so pig-headed. Probably they learn during education that a client likes to be pampered with useless massages and so on, and that is where it all goes wrong. Because if I want to get pampered, I'll go elsewhere. I go to the hairdresser to get my hair cut, and that’s it.

See, I've got curls (des cheveux bouclés). Not exuberant but plain curls. When it rains I get more curls and when it freezes they are gone. That kind of curls. But what it's all about? When I arrive at the hairdresser, be it in the UK or in France, the question is always the same: "shall I cut it up?" (désirez-vous une coupe dégradé? or something similar) and I always reply: No! (Non!). I used to be polite, but now I can’t bear it anymore. No (Non), I reply, just cut it straight and you’ll get there automatically (coupez tout droit tout simplement et vous y arrivez tout seul). Well, at ease (calmez vous), and the cutting begins.

In the Netherlands it is common to discuss the contents of the Hello! you just read while waiting or how cute your children are. But they don't do that in France, on the contrary, chitchatting you can do at home, here they cut. However, you can set your watch on it, a little later you'll get the question: “do you want me to cut it a little up on the front-side?” (dégrader un tout petit peu de face)? Oh no, nothing of the sort (non, fichez moi la paix!). That way, OK, or not, that is, if you want to parade around looking like an idiot, that's up to you!

And of course there has to be blow-dried again... well, all right I say (I really intended to say no this time, but again I failed) but not too hot, I got curls, remember? Yeah, yeah, of course, I hear. An accessory is mounted on the hairdryer, the hair-drier is switched to 100 degrees Celsius and blown around through my curls... three minutes later my hair looks as if I stuck my fingers in the electric socket. “Ah well, shall I apply some molding mud, cause your hair is a wee bit dry, did you paint it or something?” O yeah, blame me for it. The molding mud made it only worse, I could have told that in advance.

Whatever the case, the worst moment is when they hold that mirror behind your head and pose the question: “are you satisfied?” And then I see it’s all to late. Grrrrdamn! They secretly cut it up so I look like my grandmother who just had a permanent wave. But I remain polite, so all hairdressers can sleep well tonight. And that shouldn’t be, because the last time I got my hair cut in Espalion I lost 38 euro on that. Wow, thirty-eight euro, that’s (yikes) a fair amount for the curly hair that cannot be abused. And see for yourselves now, that’s how the DIY's come to existence, the bricoleurs where craftsman look down upon. But I don't care a bit, because with a ‘tondeuze à gazon’ of the Bricomarché I can personally clip the hair of all members of the family.

posted by Ruud at 01.52  |  Send a message

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