Once upon a time, I had a hairdresser and I loved him.
His name was Joel and not only was he wizard with the scissors, he was both beautiful and lovely. Visiting him in the salon was just like visiting my best friend, my hot man crush and the beautification fairy all in one. Sigh. But then one day, Joel decided to down scissors and become a picture framer. No, really. I tried my best to nurse my broken heart. I rebounded through Kit, Ivana, Elyse, Kaci and a nameless man across the road from work but to no avail. I was devastated and my hair, my hair was just sad.
That is until today.
Ladies, I am here to tell you that true love can strike twice in one lifetime. Today I sit here blogging not with a tragic shaggy mop/bob/bag of crap on my head. Today I sit here with the world’s best haircut. Today I sit here smiling.
Now if we could just skip back in time…
Yesterday, I took another leap into the beyond and entrusted my mane to a new salon, a new man and a new look. I hit the very sexy Lee Stafford salon on Wardour Street, London at 4.00pm and at 5.30pm, I left transformed. Whatever style we all sport on a daily basis, I firmly believe every woman has a secret hair idol – Rachel from Friends, Nicole Kidman, ahem, Willow from Buffy, specifically season 4… I digress. The hidden hipster in me has always lusted after a Debbie Harry bob. I’ve tried cut after cut but it always ends up as librarian hair, even when I bleached it platinum blonde. But not this time.
That’s Lee in the picture btw, I’ve not got something radical to tell you about my gender…
After a quick introduction and consultation with the lovely, lovely Johnny, I was shampooed and safely sat down in the coolio a-go go retro style chair, drinking tea out of a Catwoman teapot. I do so love attention to detail. Johnny, miracle worked that he is, managed to translate my random wafflings about choppy bobs, Debbie Harry fantasies and bleach damage, into the World’s Most Wonderful Haircut (TM). There was a lot of cutting involved, some mousse, even scrunch drying (with a diffuser and everything – I always thought it was a hairdressing myth!) and eventually a lot of flicking and fluffing but as Johnny pulled out the mirror, he uttered those three little words I’d been waiting to hear for so long…
“Heart of Glass!”
And it might not have been platinum blonde but damn it, even Debbie herself would have to say, I looked pretty bloody good. At this point, I came over a bit irrational and started kissing people but I can honestly say, I’ve never had such a good haircut from such a good hairdresser. It felt like everyone in the salon was there to make my day that little bit nicer, Johnny listened to absolutely everything I had to say and managed to transform my very vague comments into my dream do. And the salon is only a five minute walk from TopShop.
Where is the bad here. people?
Tragically, I can’t post a picture as I swanked my do all the way down Oxford Street to The Long Blondes gig and flicked it around at the hipsters so many times that it’s looking a little limp this morning. But still beautiful. So, so beautiful.
Which leave me with just have one thing to say.
In the immortal words of Miss Rachel Green: