Last Wednesday, I had an appointment with my hair guru.
He’s really a hairdresser, but hair guru suits him better: he’s someone I admire and who I trust. When he suggested last year to cut one side of my hair only, I said yes, why not, let’s try. For sure, I was mad at him a few months after when it grew back weirdly.
He undestands me, he knows what he’s doing, he doesn’t judge, I think he doesn’t. When I show him a do-the-same-thing picture, he adjusts my expectations. He always has a better idea. He’s gifted with hair, even though he doesn’t have any (to his defense, he has an awesome beard).
He has been wanted to chop everything on my head for many years now. And I finally said yes at the beginning of January, and even shorter a few days ago. I finally reach the conclusion that a tiny bun on top of my head wasn’t that cute.
The first time I saw him, a few years ago, I thought that he looked cool, probably too cool for me. But I do like a hairdresser with a good style, even if it’s not my style, it’s like following a super inspired aerobics teacher: I wouldn’t do that or wear this, but that’s the person I want to take classes from.
My hair guru has helped me in my hair journey. He’s like a therapist, the behavioral kind (side note: my real therapist cut her hair recently and it still disturbs me, like she’s another person). When I come into the salon, we hug, and I know I’m in for a treat, even though I have to face myself in the mirror for an hour with wet hair.
When I need a change, I know we need to chop.
When I avoided him for more than 11 months, he knew have been also ignoring some deepest issues (did he?) and when I finally got back, we had to do something about the hair.
He’s all about a haircut. I complained to him one time about the fact that I’ve never had and will never have some long Beauty Queen dense shiny curly-at-the-end hair. “Long hair isn’t a haircut, most of the time, it looks like a mop. Everyone needs a haircut.”
We do not talk that much during the process, maybe because of the hairdryer (though he cuts hair on dry hair, which I prefer), maybe because of my accent. But anyway, I just want to feel that’s something positive is happening, hair wise.
The ultimate proof that I love him: I tell him at the end whereas I really like the haircut or not. -I think it looks too mullet-y? -Yeah, I love a mullet. -Please, cut these wings. Before him, I would just smile and say great, and rush out.
Last Wednesday, he cut one more time here and there, and then declared:“It’s slick”. It makes me feel good! But he didn’t only cut my hair this time. He also changed the color. I’m on the other side now, I have some grey hair.
Last year I’ve started to notice a few grey hair on my head. Carl told me it was nothing, but it has sneakily evolved throughout the months. I start staring at any women’s hair on the street, café, train. Who dyes her hair? Who doesn’t? Should I do it too? When I asked my friends I realized that many of them were doing it, but only whispered it to me. Is it something taboo? I made up my mind: I do not want those white hair, not now. In January, he agreed with me: it shows, and we can do something about it.
So last Wednesday, my hair guru cut a little bit more, and thought that a camouflage was the right way to go.
Oui, hair guru, let’s do that. A camouflage.
