SURELY no sane man would ever agree to pay more than SR150 for a haircut nor, for that matter, should a sane woman. But the truth is that women do regularly pay more than that. Now here’s the point: Why would a normally reasonable and mature woman who is usually careful with money part with as much as SR600 for no more than a haircut? The only explanation I can come up with is maybe it’s the fumes.
Walk into a beauty salon at any time of the day and you’ll find it teeming with women in various stages of “hair treatment” — women of all ages, colors and sizes with a look of desperate hope on their faces: hope that the hairdresser is really going to change their lives. They will look prettier, younger, older, blonder, more like that movie star — all through the magic of a pair of scissors and a bottle of hair color. The simple fact is that you would be hard pressed to leave the salon with just a haircut, even if you wanted to. “Madam must surely feel like being pampered even a little bit! How about a facial, a back rub and oil treatment for your hair, or a manicure, pedicure, perhaps a little work on your hair using a special new technique involving milk of henna imported from Europe?” The very sound of those words makes your mouth water and you stand helpless against the onslaught of suggestions. It is then that it starts; you’re thinking: Yes you’ve worked hard all day, you deserve it — maybe just a little bit of this and some of that wouldn’t hurt.
Whisked away to start your treatment, you’re a little wary at first but then as you recline in your seat, warm water running through your hair and the scent of the shampoo perfuming the air, you cast your doubts to the wind and begin to enjoy yourself. “A cup of tea or coffee perhaps, with maybe a slice of chocolate cake?” you are asked and tempted while being accompanied to your chair, where your own stylist awaits.
“Right then, what would you like to have done?” I kid you not — the requests that hairdressers get at this point would be believable in a plastic surgeon’s clinic but not in a hairdressing salon! “Could you make my face a little less round — maybe more oval?” Others will have brought a cutout from some glossy magazine. “I want to look like this,” demands one 40-something lady brandishing a picture of Britney Spears. This crazy trend all began about seven years ago when the hit show “Friends” aired and every woman under 50 started sporting “the Rachel,” a cut made famous by Jennifer Aniston. Ever since copying celebrity hairstyles has become all the rage — not considering whether they are suitable or not. Nothing deters this lady, not even the stylist’s desperate advice that this particular cut is simply not practical for her hair. In that chair, we have delusions that everything is possible. But, with the skill borne of long practice, a stylist is usually able to reach some sort of compromise — and with both parties satisfied, she gets on with her work.
Meanwhile, sipping a cup of tea while your hands are being massaged by a manicurist (this is a skill achieved through many years of practice!) — your aching feet are soaked in warm bubbly water, you close your eyes and imagine yourself becoming someone completely new and unrecognizable. Well we’ve certainly arrived at the point of this whole outing! For women, it isn’t simply a matter of trimming hair — otherwise we’d go to a barber not a hairdresser — instead this trip is a life-altering experience from which we are convinced we will emerge, like a butterfly from its cocoon, prettier, slimmer and undefeatable and we’re prepared to pay through the nose for it. Could it be the perfumes, the scent of the special brew of tea, the hair color and the nail polish that does it?
Horrified at the thought that I could save up to SR100,000 in 10 years by never going to the hairdresser again, I decided that next time I would do it myself. What could be simpler? The supermarket’s collection of hair color is as tempting as any treatment at the salon — cocoa harbor, spiced bronze, regal black. You put the dye on your hair (there’s even a pair of gloves for you to use), mix the tubes like some mad scientist experimenting in the lab, leave it on for 40 minutes and voila! And don’t worry; the color will definitely not look the same once your hair is dry. Next, armed with a pair of scissors and a three-fold mirror, carefully comb your hair and then cut.
So I did. Two hours later I stared with dismay at my face in the mirror. I felt like one who was walking in a puddle of honey — time had slowed down — however much I blinked, all I could see were tufts of hair sticking out from everywhere. On the left side my hair was longer than on the right; my fringe was non-existent and — shock-horror — my hair was turning green! My heart racing, I put down the scissors, covered my hair with a turban and dashed into the bedroom. One hand on the telephone, the other quickly leafing through my collection of magazines: “Yes Hello! I’d like to make an appointment please. As soon as possible!” Hmmm, I think I’ll ask for a Cameron Diaz....
