Dishwater

After almost two years of careful observation, I have come to the conclusion that there are three kinds of hairdressers in my part of the world; the walk-in-quick-cut-cheap kind, the expensive spa kind, and my hairdresser. I've tried all three, and am usually content only content with the third category. I say usually, but this week, I can't really say that is the case.

When I first moved here, I was in such desperate need of a haircut, I pretty much walked into the first hairdresser I saw, which turned out to belong to the first category of hairsalons. It was called something ominous like "Cuts-r-us" or "The cutting edge", which should have warned me in advance. In spite of that, though the lady cutting my hair was nice and seemingly proficient. I could even forgive them for having posters dating at least twenty years back on the wall. However, when I noticed she had short hair in the front, and a tiny little ponytail in the back, and she explained to me she was letting her hair grow out that way, I immediately knew that I should probably not trust her with my hair grooming wishes in the future. At this point I probably should add that I like to change my hairstyle about once a year. Nothing too drastic, I mean, obviously the years of going from shoulderlength blond hair to a short red bristly do are long gone, but every once in a while I like let to my hair grow a little longer, or have it layered, or whatever else comes to mind. And in order for that to go over well, I need someone who has some inkling of what looks good and what doesn't. I can't say that this lady particularly inspired me, so that was my last visit to "Cuts-r-us". But since I did really like the price of the cut, the next time I needed one, I went to a similar salon, this one with an equally inspiring name, something along the lines of "Cut to the quick". Although the price was again awesome, all the other women in there were either their having hair permed to 1980s perfection, or wonderfully bright platinum highlights put in, or something equally not up my alley, that I realized that I was going to be stuck with the same boring hairdo forever if I didn't find some other salon.

So the next time I had to have my hair cut (and let the record state that at this point I was so freaked out by our retro hairdressers that I let it grow out for at least five months), I braced myself and my wallet and went to a ritzy-looking upscale salon by the name of "High maintenance". I made it as far as the front door, which is when I got a good look at their prices. Call me scrooge, but I will not pay over a hundred dollars for a haircut, or anything else that doesn't come with a warranty and will last at least a year. I peeked inside, and immediately realized that this was a "to be seen" place, in other words, a hairdresser where you have to dress up to fit in with the rest of the women there. My jeans, t-shirt, and plain, short nails, were definitely not going to pass as acceptable at that place. Talk about high maintenance. So although my split ends were growing split ends at this point, and I was almost ready to start wearing an Arab headdress, I turned around and went home.

And that's when I found my salon. It's an Aveda salon, and I absolutely love it, as I do my hairdresser Alli, even though her real name is Ann, and she's only called Alli because there's another Ann there already. The prices are not insane, the place smells wonderful, they give free mini-facials, and Alli generally knows how to handle my "I want something different by not too crazy" requests.

Until last week. Before I go into what happened, I'm going to let you in on a little secret here; until two months ago I had the most boring dishwater blond hair. It wasn't always like that though. Up until several years ago, my hair was really light blond, but unfortunately, over the past three, maybe four, years, my hair has gotten darker and darker. To the point where now it's that incredibly dull color Dutch people milkfarmer's dog's hair. So a few months ago, I took the plunge, and had my hair highlighted. And I loved it. It was subtle, and looked very natural. When I went back last week, I asked Alli to touch up my highlights, because they had faded a little. Now I'm not quite sure what happened, because when I came home, my hair looked, well, like my hair. Boring, dull, and dishwater blond. I think she put the wrong color in, because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't pay to have my hair highlighted in my own natural color. And I know I should call and go back. But I can't. Alli is so nice, and everyone there is so nice, and I don't want to be like the Grinch. I can live with this, in fact I did so for years. I think I can still do it. I can try anyway. Right?