Hair today, gone tomorrow

You know how it is. You spend ages styling your hair and no matter how much conditioner, argan oil, magical spray or grips are used, it still looks like straw hanging from your head.

Basically, I needed a haircut. I’d put it off long enough. Trying to mask an abundance of split ends is time consuming, let alone the fact it tends to contribute even more to the problem. Scraping it up into a pony tail, twisting into a bun, tugging and turning into plaits, the results all the same. The lion from the Wizard of Oz on a night out (not my best look).

I duly phoned my local salon to book in with their finest junior stylist (cheapest option) to transform me into a fair headed maiden once again. I get through to them and am swiftly advised that there are no junior stylists as they have all been promoted to stylists. For a split (end) second, I think wow good for them! A great achievement for the two ladies to clamber up the competitive hairstyling career ladder. However, their progression resulted in the valuation of their skills being heightened, and an increase of £20 on the cost.

“It’s £55 for a cut and blow with a Stylist, £75 with a technician and £95 with the salon director.”

Technician? Its not like I have a particularly challenging hair cut. Whatever next, hair surgeons? A hair composer?
Who styled your hair? ‘My hair author!’

I politely said that seemed ludicrously expensive and that I would have to go elsewhere.

“Ok fine, bye!”

She didn’t even put up a fight. Probably thought ‘ooh some basic bitch with basic hair, we don’t want her boring hair seen in our salon, what would the technicians think!’.

I considered my options.

1. I could cut my own hair. Surely you just section it, wet it and take a bit off the ends. Flashes of those videos on YouTube instantly appear in my mind.
Bangs gone wrong – how NOT to cut your own fringe – 256,000 views
Girl cuts own hair EPIC FAIL LOLOL – 1.3 million views 

Maybe not.

2. I could train my boyfriend to be able to cut hair. He watches hours of YouTube, what difference would a few tutorials on trimming hair make? He could weave it in between his current viewing schedule. Formula One car maintenance, FailArmy Best of the week, how to revitalise a woman’s hair in 10 minutes, back to Formula One…

In the end, I turned to where I always turn when I have a conundrum.


Good but cheap hairdressers distance 10miles from me’.

To my delight a stream of results look promising. Once I sift through the Supercuts (bad experience with them previously – lets just say the hairdresser tried to go in a ‘different direction’ with my fringe, which resulted in me looking like Mary Queen of Shops) and the Toni & Guy listings (god – I really don’t have the wardrobe to step foot in there let alone be seen through the window. I’d look like a competition winner), I find lots of local home based hairdressers.

I opt for the one with the highest google rating Styling by Maria.  I visit her website and find a distinct lack of Sound of Music puns relating to her hairdressing – boo.

How’d you do a haircut like Maria?

But her prices are reasonable and she is only 9.6 miles away. I text her and book in for an appointment in a few days.

As the day of the appointment rolls around I suddenly have a wave of nerves. Oh god what if it’s all a rouse like Sweeny Todd. What if she forced the people to write the outstanding Google reviews and then killed them, or worse, gave them a terrible haircut that they would have to live with. God imagine me with one of those mod hair cuts, super short fringe, 2 back and sides with a strand of hair at the back to keep it feminine.

Or something more classic, an above the ear bowl cut, somewhere between Friar Tuck and the Pied Piper. I don’t have the bone structure or the sass to pull that off.

I knock on the door and I am greeted by a friendly and non-threatening woman. I make my way through her very  plush house to her home salon, which is located on the glamorous mezzanine above the lounge. I take a seat and she begins tussling with my hair, tutting and pulling it up above my head to look at the lengths.

“Three inches off to make it healthy again yes?”

Three inches! I suppose it has been a while since I had a trim but Jesus, I’ll have nothing left. I wonder if that’s how it feels to have a vasectomy (I’m aware they don’t technically shorten anything, but I know nothing else and I’d like to keep it that way).

I reluctantly agree and she gets to work. Then I hear something making its way up the winding staircase to the salon. It’s grunting, breathing heavy, some sort of claw is hitting the oak floorboards and it s moving at an alarmingly slow pace.

Bush pig?


A pug.

“Dogs ok? He’s friendly!”

Luckily for her I ruddy love dogs, especially tiny ones. He may be small, but boy can he move. I reach down from the styling chair to stroke him and before I know it he is sat on my lap, my hair delicately landing on him creating, well, what is essentially a very coarse toupée for a dog.

“Is this okay, he’s getting some hair on him?”  I’m concerned that he is getting hair in his eyes and up his nose. He doesn’t need anything further restricting his breathing!

“Yes he like laps. Ok with you?”


And so the three of us sat in silence, with every snip resulting in the dog ending up with more of my hair on his head than me (or so it felt). Three inches is a lot to lose! My pony tail is now a pony tuft!

Never mind, at least I have a new hairdresser who didn’t murder me – phew!



One Comment

  1. Sarah, Sarah, Sarah… don’t you know?
    It never happens on the first visit.
    Just don’t go down the basement.

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