Hair today…..Gone tomorrow
Tonight I am traumatised.
By my hairdresser.
Why is getting a new hairdresser always so stressful?
I thought I had it all figured out, I did what all the magazines say to ensure you get what you want when visiting the hairdresser.
I took a picture of the cut I wanted from a few different angles.
I also took a picture of the colour I wanted.
I explained clearly and concisely exactly what I wanted, peppering my explanation with the words ‘choppy ‘ and ‘deconstructed’ as I felt appropriate.
I did all of the above so why have I ended up looking like an older version of Dame Edna Everage?
I could cry! I am usually not too precious about my hair, I roll with the punches, if it is not quite what I am after I let it grow and start again, no big deal.
Except this time I spent 3/4 of husbs salary and nearly 5 hours (oh yes) that I will never get back only to emerge looking worse than when I went in.
I took the picture and showed her the colour, I explained I wanted to be lighter and really creamy blonde for summer. “sure sure” she said, “beryouderful”
She took away the colour sheet my old hairdresser had given me and walked away with it, I assumed it was to mix the lovely creamy blonde colours according to
a) what I had asked for
b)the colours that she had written out on the piece of paper in front of her.
I was mistaken on both counts, as clearly what she actually did with my note detailing my colours, was study it intently in front of me while touching and ruffling my hair in a hairdressery way, walk into the other room with it and then scrunch it up and use it for basketball practice.
She then got to work on me for 4 and a half long hours with her foils, all the while ensuring that I was nowhere near a mirror at any time in the process.
When my hair was eventually coloured and ready to be cut, I was finally allowed to sit in front of the mirror so that the guy cutting my hair could see what he was doing. As soon as the towel came off my head, I knew something was terribly wrong, very dark, but with strange silvery purple stripes through it, sort of like I had been given a blue rinse. Still I kept quiet while he cut away at my locks, thinking it may look better once it was dry and I could see the colour properly.
It really, really didn’t.
In addition to the colour catastrophe, the cut wasn’t much better. Considering he actually cut so little off it, he had managed to make it look like it was in worse condition than when I went in, despite the very long conditioning treatment I had also been conned into having. He seems to have cut the style out of it and now it just hangs in a hideous, flat, silvery, stripey, dry mess.
So there it is, I emerged from the salon several hundred bucks lighter with weird tiger striped silvery, purplely, yet almost brunette hair, that also made me look like I was going grey. How can that be the case all at the same time, I don’t even know.
I left the hairdresser from hell, having parted with a lot of money and having given them my personal details so that they can hound me forever more. . . . .
To add insult to injury, she didn’t even ask if I liked the colour, simply said, “oh much better, we have nearly got all the blonde out now haven’t we”
Are you freaking kidding me woman??? Did you not understand or hear me when I ASKED for creamy, light blonde hair?????
And as I left the salon, her parting words will forever haunt me
“Thanks again Victoria, see you again soon”
Ok Ok I made that bit up, but the rest is all true.