There are three things I want from my hairdresser: a nice haircut (obviously), a good selection of magazines and a no tolerance policy to judging customers. The latter is surprisingly more important to me than coming out with my hair intact: a bad haircut can grow out- hair shame can last a lifetime. Every time I visit a hair salon, eager for some well deserved pampering I always get the same thing: “oh… do you swim a lot?” which is always followed by a sigh of disapproval, a lecture on the dangers my innocent hobby is doing to my hair followed by the hard sell for whatever new shampoo they’ve got in store. There’s that and of course the lecture of how long it has been since my last haircut and how the shampoo I use is ultimately killing my hair (my friend was once actually told her hair was ‘dead inside’ simply because she admitted to using shampoo from Boots.)Now, I feel guilty about many things in my life (indulging in a chocolate brownie, catching the bus two stops and going over my daily unit allowance with far too much gin) but I most certainly do not deserve to be made to feel guilty about what I do with my own hair.
Hair By Fairy was refreshing as it provided me with a completely guilt free haircut. It did, however, also provide me with a completely chat free haircut. On arrival at the salon I was left in a confusing position when after telling the receptionist what I wanted I was instructed to ‘sit’ in the waiting area, I did as I was told only to remember that I’d left my purse in my jacket so I quickly stood up to get it. But then whilst retrieving it I heard the receptionist shout ‘sit!’ again. Thinking I was being told off like an errant child I scuttled back to my seat, at which point the receptionist shouted ‘sit’ again (by this point I was completely bewildered, I was already sitting!) but it turns out he meant I was to go sit on a different chair to get my hair washed (instructed by a pointed finger.) I sat down expecting the regular hair wash chat but wasn’t even greeted with a ‘hello’ or even a ‘place your head here.’ Of course I knew where to place my head, but a little reassuring chat would have been nice. She began to wash my hair with shampoo that smelled of almonds (which I loved so much I wouldn’t have minded the hard sell) and then instructed me to another place to ‘sit.’ I was beginning to feel like I was on a production line.
It was time for my haircut and I was getting nervous, I had no idea whether the receptionist had my hairdresser what I wanted and feared leaving the salon with soaking wet hair or even worse dreadlocks. Noticing the picture in my white knuckled fist my stylist took it off me, glanced, said ‘very nice’ (finally some real conversation) and began to chop. Looking at the dirty towel of filthy scissors in front of me and smelling the reek of smoke which surrounded my stylist, I did not have high hopes for the cut. Sensing my discomfort and my darting eyes trying hard to stare at anything but myself in the mirror my stylist offered me a selection of magazines to read, feeling cheered by my second wish fulfilled I settled into an old copy of Cosmopolitan only to glance up occasionally to make sure my hair was still there.
Within no time my hair was done and guess what? I’m utterly and completely delighted with it. It’s just the right length, got a lot of layers and I don’t think it will take too long to style in the morning. And all for a very reasonable £13, except it wasn’t £13 but £33- with twenty quid being added on simply because I wanted a blow dry. I coughed up the cash of course and am still very pleased with my style but a pampering experience this certainly was not and for that I’m not sure if it was worth the money. I’m also intrigued to see how much other wahanda customers have been charged for a cut and blow dry as with no definite price list they could have just plucked the cost from thin (h)air.
Overall though, I’m very pleased with the cut and now I know to expect a no frill service I will certainly be back (but this time I might dry my hair at home.)