1. Family/friends (duh)
4. My hairdresser
I realize #5 might sound strange, but you try sitting on the 405 for well over a hour IN PARK not because of an accident or for rush hour, but just because it’s LA and the world is out to get us… But I digress, I’m here to talk about #4.
Oh me oh my, how I miss my hairdresser. I would like to point out that I am not high maintenance. I’d take a t-shirt, sneakers and jeans any day of the week over a dress and heels, and give me tap water, no make-up and the great outdoors and I’m a happy camper (lol, pun intended). But I didn’t realize how much I loved my hairdresser until I moved 1,400 miles away from her.
My first long-term relationship was with Faith (my 1st hairdresser). She cut my mom, sister and best friends hair (thanks Erin for introducing us, I will literally be eternally grateful) and she was DELIGHTFUL. She was a ginger, which I’m all about, and she was incredibly kind. She introduced me to round brushes, smoothing spray and side bangs (so many middle school flashbacks right now) and she always listened to me when I described what I wanted my hair to look like. And when she told us she was moving away I. was. devastated.
Luckily she introduced us to Mandy! Mandy was the very definition of spunk. Home girl could talk pretty much non-stop for the entire hair appointment (which as an introvert I sooooo appreciated). And even though she would spin around seemingly carelessly with multiple pairs of scissors in her hands, her cuts were ON POINT. She listened to what I wanted, gave her advice and we always came up with a solid compromise. I never left disappointed. When it came time for me to move away for college, I pretty much planned all my trips home around when I needed my hair cut (sorry mom & dad).
Cut to moving halfway across the country where it’s not quite so easy to plan trips home just so Mandy can cut my hair. I postponed my first haircut out here as long as I possibly could 1. because I was on a tight budget and 2. because I didn’t trust ANYONE with me hair. I would be way more likely to go on a blind date than go on a blind haircut. Finally I found some courage, hit the yelp reviews and took a chance. This place was nice, and the hairdresser was sweet as can be! We clicked almost immediately and actually had some really interesting conversations! The haircut itself was so-so, but I was willing to look past it because I’d found my girl!
Cut to last week when my bangs were so long my morning mascara routine was becoming hazardous and I couldn’t move faster than .1 mph without my hair becoming a GIANT tangle. It was time. I called my girl, who the first time I tried her had been available day-of, and she was booked. FOR A MONTH.
The last thing I wanted to do was hit up Yelp again but I was out of time and had no other choice. I found a place that had decent reviews, same prices as my usual places, and was open after work. Score!!!
Yelpers you LIED. Straight up lied.
I got there at 6:20 (5 minutes late BUT I called to say I was running a tad behind) and my chica was the only hairdresser still there. She had just finished shampooing some crazy Positive Polly…So she wasn’t ready for me until about 7…. Whatever. If it was just that one thing, no big deal! I wish it was just that one thing.
So I finally sit in the chair and start explaining what I want: an all around trim, more defined longer layers, bangs trimmed up (but no fringe-y/blunt bangs), and layers/bangs that frame my face. She smiles politely and then says, “yeahhhh no. I’m not gonna do that”.
I probably looked as shocked if she had just confessed a murder to me.
I responded, “oh, well this is what I like because I wear my hair up a lot, its not too difficult to manage, it fits my lifestyle, without layers my hair expands to afro-territory, etc”. And she just kinda said ok and basically said she would do “something along those lines”. But that was only the beginning. After the wash, she scratched my face MORE THAN ONCE with her nails, dropped the comb at least 6 times and accidentally flung several hair clips across the room on many different occasions while she was telling a never-ending story about her boyfriend from Jersey. Oh, and when she was cutting my bangs, I’m pretty sure she also cut some of my eyelashes… and finally she said “oops”. Multiple times. NO HAIRDRESSER SHOULD EVER SAY OOPS. EVER.
It was basically almost 2 hours of torture. Every time I tried to speak up, it just reminded her of another story about her Jersey boyfriend that I just had to hear (I really didn’t). It’s times like these that I wish I had just a liiiiiiiiiiiittle more of a backbone. Instead I paid $75 for something I hate. But there’s not much else I can do now other than NEVER EVER GO BACK THERE AGAIN.
So it looks like I will be rockin’ no layers at all (get ready for afro-city people) and bangs that are a little too reminiscent of the “90s/middle school boy/chili bowl haircut” days…. Swell. Good thing this is exactly what your twenties are for: experimenting and bad haircuts 😉