So being on holiday in Wellington leaves me open to the temptation of the retail trail. Other people are going for 'treks' but I prefer short walks with coffee stores and bathrooms nearby. I can handle carrying a few store bags, but not a pack.
So that's my first week of holidays.
Chores and shopping.
Today I had an admirably early hair appointment to start the day. I bought it online as part of my year long experiment to find a new hairdresser. I have tried my local salon and three that had $50 online deals. Today it was one right in the city. I was given the choice of 9am or 10am and I went for the latter. I couldn't quite bare the thought of being on a bus with worker-bees. I am a lady of leisure.
My hairdresser was David. The first ten minutes of the appointment I tried to figure out what part of Europe he was from and whether he was gay. He eventually mentioned having a wife and being from South Africa (ok, my accent detective work is not strong). I have an oddly good record of getting all of the non-gay male hairdressers in Wellington.
He did a full consultation with me about my haircare routine. It was shameful and I did not enjoy it. I had dyed my hair in a rush last night (when I called up and realised they had an appointment for me within 24 hours and my hair had about an inch of grey showing - having got a bargain I was not going to be talked into paying extra for a colour job, as the man on the phone had suggested). While I said I was 'happy' with my colour when he asked, he later commented that whoever had done it didn't do a good job and that 'a lot of natural highlights were showing through'. I thought that was a good thing, but his tone suggested otherwise.
I pretended to use more products than I actually do. It felt heathen-like to admit to how little effort I put into my hair. I do use salon conditioners, but last time the hairdresser criticised my choice of using Redken (it's apparently protein based and dries out the hair) so I was vague about the brands this time. I said I sometimes use a 'serum thingie'.
All the while I was sitting in the chair staring at my hair in the mirror. It was hideous. How could I have been going around with this for so long? To be fair, I had dyed it the day before and hadn't had time to dry it properly, so had worn it up for netball and then had another shower and gone to bed. No products, no hair dryer, no straightening and barely even a brush in the morning. I like to come to the appointment as a blank canvas. But admittedly it did look a little mane-like.
Then he said, 'So what do you want today?' I said very confidently (having rehearsed it on the way to the salon on the bus), 'I would like a shoulder length bob - I would like a lot of the length off.'. They like it when you say you want length off - hairdressers are obsessed with taking 'weight' off your hair.
And he said, 'No.'
He said it would be 'wedge-like', much like my hair was as I looked in the mirror. He said I would have to straighten it every day. He seemed to doubt my ability to be this proactive about physical appearance. I meekly said I'd had one before and had managed..... he didn't believe me.
He went into an elaborate description of what he'd do instead and managed to criticise my previous hairdresser several times in the process.
I was convinced though. I do like an assertive hairdresser. My old favourite was much the same (though he did allow me to have a bob - and it was very good). I figure I know bugger all about hair (as evidenced by what I saw in front of me) and he seemed to have some good theories. It sounded drastic enough to at least be different, which at least makes it feel like it was worth the trip.
He described every product used in great detail (a pet peeve of mine, especially since I was a mystery client at Rodney Wayne that time and realised mentioning each brand was part of their check-list). And he commented on my flaky scalp (even physically pointing out the evidence to me at one stage to which I again, meekly nodded my head and apologised). Apparently this is exacerbated by my horrible habit of going to bed with wet hair.
He showed me a simple way to blow dry my hair without having to use a brush. I appreciated that. I watched with quiet interest.
He commented on how quiet I was (another pet peeve - so what if I like to be silent during a haircut? do they all have to small talk? even the men?).
He commented on how it had taken a lot longer to straighten than he thought it would and how it was so thick it made the claw-clip thingie 'groan'. The stubbornness of my hair made me proud.
The end result was ok. I think it'll be good. It certainly is less mane-like. More mullet-like. But mullets are cool now, aren't they?
They tried to book me in for another appointment in eight weeks time (having already told me off for leaving it three months since my last appointment anywhere). I said I'd call them. But then, they have all my details on their peice of paper now, so I'm sure they'll call me first anyway.
I figure if this hair-cut grows in ok I might go back. And if I put a lot of effort into caring for it better he may praise me or pat me on the head or something.
I kinda like an arrogant hairdresser as long as they come through with the goods.
* * *
And then, since my haircut was practially free ($48 - a voucher I'd paid for a few months ago, so it seemed free today) I went shopping.
I bought some more chocolate covered coffee beans from the Kirks sale because they made me feel HAPPY!!!! And I got a new scarf. That may have been a mistake, brought on by the happy beans.
And I got a fat-sweater with birds on it and a demure skirt from Karen Walker. Both under $70 at her sale. They're essentially plain things I could've got from Glassons for all you can see but I feel so much flasher being able to say it's Karen Walker (in my posh voice). Marketing works!
And then I went into Kate Sylvester because she was also having a sale (as was everybody else in town). I like that she has my name. And I like that her things marked 'Large' actually are. I made the mistake of trying on a blazer, just to see what it fit like. It fit real good. Long arms, button in the right place, shiny slip-on lining. So I bought it. Eveyone needs one good blazer, right? The shop lady said I'd wear it all the time. She wouldn't lie to me. It was a little bit on sale. Half price. But half of a very large price. The other things I tried on were under $100. This one wasn't. I hate when you like the most expensive thing you try on.
And that was my shopping day!
Phew. No more shopping for me for a little while.
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