Memories: Annual Haircut Day

[anotherbanana]

This predates covid by several years. I might add that I havent been to a hairdresser for well over a year now but will soon ask for tenders to get me sheared! But I thought the following might amuse:

Annual haircut week

It has been annual haircut week, (well thanks to a little cheating, 15 months in fact) and I have indulged in the rictual of the annual shearing which is both a pleasure in itself (where else do you get so much attention from a nymphette in a thin gown and not much else by the look of it), and a trial of will power over heart!

Now, long hair is one of Nature's pleasures that I attempt to enjoy, despite discreet sniping from the shadows ("Oh but you look so much younger with it short", sounds like my mother!). It is also a means of showing that I still have some left to grow, which is more than most of my generation (sorry guys) or my father at my age. Under no circumstances would I ever appear shaved like a glass fishingnet buoy to hide the fact that I am a baldieeeeeeeeeeee.

But, being an appeasing sort of chap, compromse on this is wiser, to avoid stamped feet and general disapprobation. So, the deal is this: haircut once a year in late spring at a proper hairdressers but without matronly or other supervision.

By which I mean one of those lovely little salons peopled by practitioners young enough to be my grandchildren where they play very odd music and have magazines of such superficiality that they become fascinating and compulsive reading.

As this was the first time in this little French town, a saloon had to be found and investigated, not on grounds of price, but for ambiance, lighting, reading material, coiffeuses and photos of well tanned men with impossible hairdos on the walls.

"Yes monsieur, we also cut men's hair. Yes Monsieur, it is €13 for a basic (tip not mentioned but bowl prominent though strangely empty of anything bigger than a groat). And yes monsieur, we have a cancellation so we can do you.... (did she really say that?) "in twenty minutes."

"Merci madamoiselle, alors je serai entre vos trés jolis mains dans un peu plus de quinze minutes?". And she blushed the little goose, I swear she blushed.

Anyway, there we are, back again, having calmed the nerves, got the sweating palms under control, looking at an unnaturally airbrushed bimbo who is now famous for going to the Chanel party and getting her picture taken with Le Comte de Malmaison d'Arbrevilles de Pimply d'Arse, actually a Renault salesman until he comes into the family money and estates.

My (already mine and so young?) coiffeuse appears with that discreet smile of hers, but before she leads me to the final chair I point to the foto on the wall of the impossibly brown young man with the supercurly, supersexy (?) hairdo.

"Ah, qu'il est beau avec ces cheveux comme ça". Her interest rose a little as she sensed something was up. She sat me down wrapped me in a bearskin and asked quietly in my ear how I would like it.

Shaking with anticipation, I replied, "Like the photograph". She laughed out loud at my joke. I persisted.

"Mais, monsieur, vous ne pouvez pas". I insisted.

She popped off for a consulation with her colleague working at the electric chair next door, covering some teen with metal aluminium foil, probably for a barbeque later. Together they tittered, and frowned. And tried to find a way to tell me as I smiled like Liberace on speed and looked longingly at the photo.

"But monsieur, it ees not posseeeble". How did she know I was English?

"Pourquoi, madamoiselle?" She squirmed, the little minx, she ran her hands right down her sides and then across.............(no!).

Together they went into a giggling huddle with the chief warder, a kindly looking, little cherub of 30 summers with loadsa gold 'n silver jewellery and a face apparently covered in a thick layer of tanned putty. Then it became a frowning huddle with glances at the furriner who was CAUSING DIFFICULTIES.

"Monsieur, that haircut is not for you" and they blushed in unison and sympathy with their boss.

What was wrong with me? My hair was long and luxurient, I had both money and time to devote to the creation of this New Beauty.

Now, I knew what they didn't want to say, the little lovelies in this tiny provincial town which appears so modern but is yet so stuck in its ways.

Finally, after another huddle and a silence, my girlie came back, nervously, perhaps shivering a little, a doe before the hunter.

"Mais monsieur, ce coup de cheveux, c'est pour ............ les jeunes".

And I took the little lovely to my heart and placed the scissors in her hand gently and told her to give me un coup pour un vieux. And she smiled and did just that.

But I did leave a decent tip, for she did deserve it.

[nomoss]

It's so good to know that someone else has their hair cut so infrequently.

I try to avoid getting mine cut in France, as I have never managed to find a decent male barber. The few females who have cut my hair have always industriously snipped away at it interminably, a few millimeters at a time, leaving it only slightly shorter, but me looking like a slightly camp interior designer. On top of which I can't find my parting after their attacks.

Until the restrictions which began in early 2020 I would have my hair cut in about May, when it began to feel a bit hot and itchy with the onset of warmer weather, and again in September, before shorter hair caused a thermal shock.

My last proper haircut was done by my usual barber in Figueres in September 2019. I have used him for almost the last 20 years since we left Spain, after being disillusioned by the efforts of our local young ladies, who were obviously trained in giving haircuts to their own ideas, rather than to their customers' requirements.

I chanced a haircut at a newly opened local unisex establishment in around July last year, but received the usual overpriced bodge. I now have hair much longer than I like, which my wife has trimmed to keep it above my collar, and am determined to stick it out until we are again allowed to go to Spain.

[anotherbanana]

Mine is way beyond the collar but once the three week mark since my second jab has passed I will put out tenders to get the job done.

There is a good haircut guy here in Montreuil, by the way, who cuts as I like which is very short but not looking like a loo brush. He understands.

nm, you as a slightly camp interior designer did make I larf!?

My little bird has her first hair appointment tomorrow after Bobo knows how many weeks. The level of excitement and anticipation is growing!

[Ken]

My level of vanity has, for some reason never extended to my hair! Perhaps it's because I can't see it as others do, especially the back!! I dress, I think, with vanity in mind, shave everyday regardless and would never go out looking shabby, but my hair——! I haven't been to the hairdressers for nearly two years now having bought a very expensive home haircutting kit. Whenever I did go the hairdressers the cut was ok somedays excellent on others and mediocre most of the time. In any event after a few days had passed it always looked the same anyway!!!

At around 25€ a cut I must have saved a fortune into the bargain since I started DIY!!! As for the ridiculous time and money women spend on their hair, no! I had better not comment!!!!

[anotherbanana]

Haircuts round here cost about €17. Ladies I don't know about. Nomoss might!?

[Ken]

Obviously an inferior region!! You pay what for you get!! It's nice to know there are peasants out there!!!!!