I’ve been getting my hair cut by a lovely and awesome lady C. for a couple of years now. I went today to get my shaggy mop of hair trimmed, and since I’ve been halfheartedly growing it out for a while, it’s even shaggier than it usually is when I finally get around to getting it cut. So I go in, and her first remark is “I think that’s the longest I’ve ever seen your hair!”
My hair is barely down to my chin, and I suspect it is in fact the longest she’s ever seen it. She then taught me how to put my hair in pincurls, which I am so trying sometime when I’m working from home. And yes, I’ll (probably) post pictures even if (especially if?) it’s as much of a disaster as I expect it to be.
Part of the reason I think she’s great is that she has never once given me flak about a) having short hair (quite the opposite, actually), b) owning no hair implements, c) getting A. to trim my hair between my infrequent cuts and d) generally being entirely ambivalent about hair things. Then about halfway through, this happened:
M: “So I bought a hair straightener a while back, and it’s fantastic! I use it on the side bits that always flip out horizontally, and my hair looks so much better.”
C. “Oh my goodness, I’m so proud of you! Straighteners are the best, and you can do so much with them.”
Yup, she’s great. Sadly I had to walk home in a rainstorm, and now look like a drowned rat, but I looked really spiffy for the few minutes before I left the store.
I love my laidback hairdresser too. She knows I believe fingers = hairbrush and the only time I ever use “product” is when she puts it on.