A good haircut is hard to find.
I found this guy on yelp that was supposed to be good.
So I swung by in the morning yesterday, only to discover he was booked til evening.
Which is good (means he’s probably excellent, since his appointment log is full)… but bad, since I wanted the chop yesterday for various reasons, not the least of which was cuz I knew if I put it off, my shaggy hair would likely not get love for another week or two.
So I decided to fal lback to a hair salon in the vicinity where I’ve gotten humdrum-quality cuts before, though nothing catastrophic.
The thing is, for this cut, I specifically wanted a different look, a bit shorter, etc.
I’d even printed out a picture of this familiar fellow to give the stylist an idea of what I was looking for:
Not only did she not get the look right, but early on in the cut she asked me, “Is this short enough?”
What can you say to a lady with sharp scissors who’s holding a lock of your hair?
But inside I was thinking, “WHY OH WHY are you asking me? Don’t you have a sense of what you’re trying to accomplish already?”
Sadly, the answer to that question was clearly no.
She had no idea.
Unless she was trying to accomplish hackish butchery.
As she wound up, I had very little idea of what to say. It didn’t look terrible (at that point), maybe cuz she’d gelled down some of the more horrendous angles.
But when I came up, the seriously dampened response and lackluster expression on my lovely wife’s face told me that I had not succeeded in my quest to satisfy her request that I get a “younger look.”
Unless “younger” means “lawnmower ran me over.”
Notice the uneven sides and the poofy rounded top. The kids even commented that I had a “mohawk” cut:
I think it’s more accurate to say I got a chia pet chop.
At this point, what could I do? I’d paid for a chop, and cheapskate that I am, I wasn’t about to go get another haircut to attempt to fix a bad haircut from a stylist I’d never met (though he had glowing reviews online).
Lois even thought it was absurd. “Just let it grow out,” she said.
So I waited overnight, and asked Lois again this morning, “Is it bad? Tell me the truth.”
Then I looked more carefully in the mirror, saw the above coiffure, and thought to myself, you look like a telescoping duster for brushing cobwebs:
I wasn’t going to suffer this for however long it took me to get another cut, which on average, is 1-3 months.
So I decided, in desperation, to go back to plan A.
I immediately called the first stylist (the one who was booked all day yesterday) and asked if he had any openings today.
He said he was open during lunch hour.
So I made the appointment and brought the wife and kids to the salon. So as to have a 3rd party observer who cared who could openly say, “NO, STOP, I HAVE TO LIVE WITH THAT MAN. PLEASE STOP!”
And I was walked into the salon, I told the stylist what had happened.
He looked at me and said, “You got a haircut?” as if it wasn’t obvious from the state of my hair. Note: he’d never seen me before my hair, so he had no way of knowing that I had.
Then he sat me down and within 3 seconds, I kid you not, said, “This is totally uneven.”
[Note: when a stylist “finishes” cutting your hair and then brings a big mirror around for you to check out his/her work, has anyone other than me ever noticed how hard it is to really tell whether it’s actually any good? It’s kinda like knocking on watermelons, you just kinda do it cuz you’re copying everyone else.]
Then he got to work.
With clear precision and an artistic touch that was clearly absent from yesterday’s hatchet lady.
And 20 minutes later… my wife was nodding, I was starting to feel better, and all was happy in the world. I’m no Tom Cruise, but at least I’m not a cobweb duster either.
Here’s the final product. I’m satisfied. Scroll up and compare to see the stark contrast. Yay.