By Lesley Keith
I HAVE been cursed with very fine, wavy hair, meaning finding a good hairdresser is essential to my well being.
Over the years I’ve had the some pretty awful comments made following haircuts.
“How much was that?” One ex-partner shrieked, “Well are you happy with it? Because I’m not!” (There’s a reason he’s an EX-partner).
Good, trusted friends have said the following… ‘I thought you were going to the hairdressers today?’ or a classic, ‘Are you okay? You look awful’, or the favourite from just about everyone I know: “Hmmm, I like the back”.
So being in a new place, I thought that maybe I could break the mould and find a good hairdressers fast.
I was definitely a victim of the accursed Mallorcan Hair Syndome (MHS), where the dampness and humidity in the air guarantees to frizz up, drop or ruin any attempt at styling.
As it happened, my first Mallorcan cut was relatively successful, but it was in a salon miles away so not very practical.
The stylist was also on her way out of the shop, so the search continued.
A local English stylist was recommended that everyone in my area apparently goes to. She charged more than I could really afford but hey, I’m worth it!
Ready to book my appointment, I happened to bump into a guy I’d recently met who apologised that he didn’t know which lady I was because ‘we all had the same hair colour and style, just like clones’.
Digesting this shocking piece of information I realised that yes, he was right, there was a whole load of us certain-age ladies looking spookily alike.
A quick rethink occurred and I decided to check out the town salons by hanging about outside them like a stalker.
Finally I found one, busy with both males and females, reasonable, everyone coming out looking better than they went in and most importantly the stylist had fine wavy hair! In I went to book an appointment to discover this was the only place in the town where no-one speaks a word of English.
Undeterred, I dragged the depths of my brain for the right words and with pointing, head nodding and lots of smiles managed to book an appointment for the following week.
Well booking an appointment is one thing, actually explaining exactly what you are hoping they can achieve is something else.
I scoured the internet, looked through magazines and papers trying to find a relevant picture of the look I was after, but nothing came close.
I actually wanted to look 15 years younger and a stone lighter, but hey ho.
I decided to do my own drawing which I produced with a flourish at my appointment once my hair was washed and I was in front of her mirror.
This went down very well, it was shown around to other customers who were highly amused and also to staff who were dragged in from coffee breaks to admire my artistic skills.
I wanted her to use styling mousse but this word wasn’t in my Spanish – English dictionary or on my translation app.
After some confusion, pointing and compulsory hand waving she said it was Espuma, which sounds like she’s saying ‘it’s a puma’, but we got there eventually and I was very happy with the result – much, much shorter, fuller, softer and flattering, I thought. Sadly, it was raining very heavily as I left so the dreaded MHS set in the minute I stepped outside.
Feeling confident though I headed for home where my partner innocently asked what I’d done that morning, totally oblivious! In fact, no one noticed or commented at all.
Business as usual then!
However I was happy with it. It was very much more achievable for me and so I went back six weeks later and let them do another cut and colour.
On my return this time, my partner who knew where I was going said I looked great and I had lovely compliments from friends as well. Yes, I’ll admit, one side is longer than the other, but holding my head permanently to one side really isn’t going to be a problem.
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