Today I went to the hairdressers. Me and hairdressers? Not so much. I’m still recovering from my Makepeace experience.
But I desperately needed a restyle. Make that a style. So lovely fashionista friend took me in hand. To her hairdresser. She’s a fearless hair chameleon. Daddy Pig was slightly concerned and warned me that what fashionista friend could carry off, I could not.
I went in looking, well, wild.
‘You need to realise that her hair does not look like this because it’s her actual hair. It’s pure neglect,’ fashionista friend kindly explained to Corrado (who I’d actually been calling Eduardo. Oops).
Corrado is from Sardinia and a man of few words. I don’t think he quite got my flippant banter. Or my vagueness.
‘I’d quite like it long with a fringe. But maybe short. I wear it straight but perhaps I should start working with the waves?’
Corrado started to look concerned. So did fashionista friend. Like I was a mentally ill patient who didn’t know her own mind and had forgotten to take her meds. There was much conferring between them. My fate lay in their hands and I suspect no one wanted that responsibility.
‘Would you consider a Brazilian blow dry?’ asked Corrado.
How did he know, I thought? And, how forward. One thing at a time, one thing at a time. Let’s get my hair sorted out first.
‘It is a treatment to condition and straighten the hair.’
In the end, I was not allowed a short style. I was not allowed a proper fringe. I was not allowed to have the same cut as the oh so pretty stylist (who turned out to be Corrado’s girlfriend). And I respect Corrado for his expertise and his hesitation. Because, guess what? I actually had such a good experience that I am going to go back to the same hairdresser. For the first time ever.
I like Corrado and his ambient salon. I like the fact he isn’t verbose or a people pleaser and he actually concentrates on the snipping. I like the fact that everyone in the salon has an exotic accent. And I especially like the fact that NO ONE asked me where I’m going on holiday.
Yup. I think I could stay faithful to Corrado. And I reckon next time I can twist his arm and get that fringe I’m almost certain I want.
I left the salon looking like this. Sleek. Groomed.
Naturally within an hour of leaving the salon, the heavens opened. I was on the school run so got completely drenched. And my fabulous hairstyle was shot to s***.
And I instantly remembered why I don’t go to the hairdressers. The love affair with Corrado was over. Just like that.
Until I got home. And looked in the mirror.
Wow. I had the very waves I’d actually thought I’d wanted.
A hairstyle that looks better after being out in the rain? Now THIS I can work with.
Anyone know how to say ‘I love you’ in Sardinian?
Footnote: if you fancy getting up close and personal with Corrado you can find him snipping away quietly here.