As I was saying, I love a good haircut. I love everything about it. Well, apart from the cost. I love the indulgence of spending 2-3 hours being pampered. I love the trashy magazines and currently I love my hairdresser. Finding a hairdresser in a new city can be tough. I didn't manage it when I was living in Boston. Spent the year moving from recommendation to recommendation, always disappointed with how my hair ended up looking. I'm not particularly fussy, really, but I have thick hair and I want it to look good. My hair needs to be tamed with those "thinning scissors" otherwise it takes on a life force of its own and I have discovered that not all hairdressers were created equal when it comes to thinning scissors.
Anyway, I came across my current hairdresser really by chance. After reading scores of posts on ToyTown about good English-speaking hairdressers I ended up going to the guy around the corner from my apartment. He didn't really know how to use the "thinning scissors", but he spoke English and at the time this kind of took precedence. And then I kept going back to him because I kept running into him on my way to work and I didn't want him to feel bad that I wasn't having my hair cut by him anymore. And in truth ,the fact that he spoke English was still quite comforting.
But then the last time I went he was sick and his colleague cut my hair. Ooooh, she did such a good job. I loved it. I got compliments. She used the "thinning scissors" with finesse. She made me feel pretty, which is always a good thing when your siting in front of a mirror, staring at yourself. I was one happy camper. And surprisingly... she doesn't speak English! Nope, no English. Almost zilch. Well, zilch for a European anyway. And I did fine. She did fine! We laughed together. I learnt how to say fringe/bangs (Pony) and she learnt the English word for Scheitel (part in the hair). But then afterwards I had the whole dilemma of what to do next time and wondered whether I could go back to her and not offend the first guy. It took two months to make a decision, and my hair really needs cutting at least every 6 weeks, so for the last 2 weeks I was scrapping my hair back into a ponytail moaning that I needed a haircut but paralysed by the 'will I offend him' dilemma (this I know, is pathetic).
I ended up going to the women. It was great. And I love my new hair. Like I said, perhaps pathetic for it to be a highlight of my week, but there you have it. I have a new haircut, I spoke German and it made me feel good.
Have a lovely weekend everyone! And for laughs, here's one of my favourite out-takes from the self-portrait fiasco.