Was at the hairdresser yesterday, and this is the fruit of their labours. It’s beautifully shiny, and I love how they dried my hair, although it dropped quite drastically on my rainy walk to the tube, but … well, I did NOT enjoy my salon experience all that much.
I’ve mentioned before that I find trying new hairdressers a bit stressful, particularly when it comes to colour, and yesterday’s experience wasn’t one that’ll have me beating a path back to to this particular salon’s door, I’m afraid. During the initial consultation, the stylist ignored my requests not to make it too dark, and completely dismissed my suggestion that maybe she could mix two shades, (the sample swatch was a really “flat” brown, and my hair has a lot of red in it, naturally, and I wanted the colour to reflect that). Then, she called over another colourist with the express purpose of having two people telling me I was wrong.
The rest of the colour process was fine, two colours were mixed and it was pretty uneventful (except being repeatedly called “hunni”, which drove me nuts, “Are you alright, hunni?” “Do you need a magazine, hunni?” “I’ll just be another hour with this other customer, hunni, okay?” Seriously I could practically see the heart-shaped dot over the i), and after the least relaxing, and actually quite painful rinse-out – seriously, I spent the entire thing in a flinch, and I LOVE having my hair washed! – I went over for the blowdry, with another stylist.
And I loved it! She asked me if I wanted something bouncy, and she did a wonderful job, just what was needed. My hair was glossy and full of body, bounce and shine. Simply perfect.
But … the colourist then came over, and pronounced “See! Not too dark at all! We knew what we were doing all along!”. Well, actually, it is too dark – and it hasn’t escaped me that it would have been darker still if I hadn’t put put my foot down – it’s just not as dark as I was scared it was going to be.
But I was feeling thoroughly patronised at this point, so when she went on to point out the virtues of me not ever using permanent dye again (in that special voice people tend to save for the elderly, the insane or the foreign, you know the one I mean), I’d about had enough. I know I’m not trendy, I know I’m not young’n’funky any longer, and I know I’ve made a few jokes recently about being senile, but I am not ready to be treated like an elderly maiden aunty who has just asked for a violet rinse in Toni & Guy ….
I didn’t complain, because, really, how do you complain about being patronised by someone half your age? And what would the salon have done anyway? My hair, actually, is fine, I just hated every moment of the experience!
Here’s a pic to exmplify how much darker it is than usual:
Like I said, it’s not bad, it’s just … not what I wanted.
So, can everyone tell me about their hair disasters please, so I don’t feel too much like Morticia’s granny any more?