gauche American

I got my hair cut last week and I just have to tell you about it.

I found a new salon here in St. John's Wood just down the High Street. I had been warned in advance from a few of my friends that the place "comes with alot of attitude". I took that to mean a typical Euro-ness about it.

Now back home in 'merica (as Andrew likes to say), I had been seeing the same stylist for several years. Needless to say he knew me and my follicular challenges so I didn't need to explain myself much when I went in. He knew what I would approve of as far as styles and also how my bouncin' and behavin' hair would cooperate. (NOT!)

So now I had to verbally share my issues with a total stranger. And a French one at that.

His name was Dror. I believe he was French and in his late 20's. He had to introduce himself twice to me - as I didn't understand a thing he said. I have finally become comfortable with the British accent and now I must broaden to French I guess.

After he got over the intial shock of my dark roots and split ends we got down to business. He explained that the last cut was "all wrong" and he was going to make it all better. Uh, yeah, good luck with that......

We discussed that I was now a low maintenance hair kinda person......I am not going to spend more than 10 minutes everyday on my hair. (which is something I would have never ever said 9 years ago OR believed it was even possible! ) But in my old age I have learned it is futile to even try.

And I have discovered that I am losing my hair at a hair-raising rate these days. I feel if it continues at this rate I will certainly never be mistaken for being Ed Hogan's daughter.

Scary.

So in explaining my challenges I ultimately embarrased myself by showing a side of me that I knew existed and had been repressing (or at least attempting to) for quite some time.

You know the saying,

You can take the girl out of Texas, but not the Texas out of the girl.

Well, to a certain extent that is true.

I wanted to point out one of the frustrating characteristics of my hair.



My cow-lick.



Now do you know what that is? Is that a common saying? I don't know if it is.........but Dror seemed to scrunch his little French nose up at me and tilt his head in such a way that I knew I would forever be labeled the "gauche American" in that haughty-taughty salon. In fact, I was so oblivious to what I was saying I even repeated it....."I also have this cow-lick at the back of my head that never lays flat" I continued to say repeatedly.

There was complete silence on his part. He then discreetly bent over to whisper in my ear that he believes that what I am referring to is a "growth pattern". Oh, yeah, that's it....a growth pattern. I believe I turned 15 shades of red at that point.....which is, by the way, one of my colors so it wasn't all too bad.

So for the rest of my appointment I sat there reading my British issue of DECOR and kept my down-home mouth shut. I also wondered where that phrase came from.....why would we call it a cow-lick?

He styled my hair in such a way that is soo popular now. Straight and smooth. Which only makes me appear like a wet rat in my humble opinion. I have had straight and smooth and thin all my life and now it is en vouge - but I still don't like it. I want voluminous thick hair.

Big hair - that is....and I don't mind admitting it. And I don't care how 80's it might be....

By the time I was paying for this overpriced, under-styled, and over-attituded haircut I believe most others in the salon had forgotten about my slip-up. For I was witness to a very loud quarrel between 2 older (maybe 70+) ladies who were evidently "regulars". Both of them were dripping with jewels and had hung up full length fur coats upon entering. (I had been watchin' them from the beginning.) Their appointments were running late and they were not pleased, but they seemed to be arguing with each other about it or maybe something else....nobody really knew.

And that is one thing I have learned. Never upset the older British generation because they will flat let-you-have-it. They don't mind expressing their unhappiness to anyone.

So being the gauche American that I was, I inquired as to what was going on while I was checking out at the front desk. The lady at reception replied, "Oh, not to worry dah-lin. Those 2 are best friends and they are like Jeckyll and Hyde" "Not to worry. Not to worry." (don't forget the British accent)

So I slipped out of the salon quickly while the entertainment had switched to the 2 other characters. And went home to mousse my new "do".