A place to relax and be pampered. A place where us girls go to chill, gossip and get glam…ish
Got to be honest, I absolutely hate the salon. I was there today and I am always in the same head space. Tense and self-conscious. I love my hairdresser but that’s about it. The whole salon environment fills me with dread. I have never been comfortable in those places and over the years this has not improved.
From the reception to the exit one thing is consistent. All the staff regardless of gender and role are preened and polished to perfection.
Then in walks me. Under those lights and in front of that mirror I tend to look like a wrinkled, pasty mess of sub par make up and frizzy hair. Every appointment I chat happily with my hairdresser while quietly working out what cosmetic procedure I’m going to have first.
That’s another thing that concerns me, the talking. Over all the hair dryers I always feel like the dude that shouts ‘I’m on the train!’. Am I being loud? I have no idea.
At the end of the visit, my hair has been restored to something resembling healthy. Despite this, my eyes are drawn to my make up that is melting off my face and the tiny bits of hair that have attached themselves to my cheeks, nose and chin. Basically I leave the salon looking like a GHD’d Chewbacca. Sexy.
Waxing is another beast altogether. I have been getting waxed since I was 17 years old. My beautician is amazing. Her little room is situated at the back of a hair salon. All the staff are so lovely and friendly and as before… immaculate. The only issue with this salon is what happens at the end of my treatment. After I have been waxed within an inch of my life I then have to walk back passed everyone. They are looking poised and professional as I slope by, head down, looking and walking like a plucked chicken! Delightful.
Today I see teenagers with the most flawless makeup, celebrity eyebrows and Hollywood hair. No one seems to have bad hair days anymore. Let alone a bad hair decade. The awkward teenage years of trying to find yourself appear to be a thing of the past. It’s baby…toddler… small person then instant beautiful individual. No awful school photos to file in the bin. No dodgy fashion faux pas or wild hair. Just photo-shoot ready.
I’m not worried. I’m obviously the ‘great personality‘ chick with the kind heart. That’s great and everything but I do wish that came with a side order of Smoking Hot!!