Things are cool now between myself and that once-awful place I fleetingly described in yesterday’s post. The building still stands, the occupants still live and my hair has returned to a standard of appreciable coolness, which has altered my opinion of the salon. At precisely 10am this morning (because the salon only opens at that time on a Monday, not at 9am, like I thought), I called to make a complaint regarding the horrible haircut they gave me at the weekend and found my caffeine-fuelled anger dwindling from the instant they answered the phone. Explaining that my haircut had not made me happy, leaving my hair all greasy and looking downright awful, the stylist on the other line advised me to return for a style adjustment later this afternoon. As aforementioned, I would be taking no less than a refund for the poor cut received or a re-style free of charge by a different, more competent stylist. Well, all things considered, I settled on the latter and booked an appointment straight after work.
And my experience improved from the moment I got there. The stylist taking over informed me that my hair had reacted to some of the products being used in the salon, possibly clashing with ones I had also used at home; therefore she suggested using products without silicone included, such as Head and Shoulders, as a means of reducing the build-up which had led to the greasy, matted effect I witnessed there on Saturday. Additionally, she consulted me on the photos I brought and talked me through the haircut, making sure I was confident of the length I wanted cut off since it was obvious from my previous visit that I wasn’t entirely certain how short I really wanted it. In the end, she showed me the results of an hour’s snipping, and what an improvement it was, compared to that horrible haircut from Saturday gone! I liked the outcome, I really did, and though the ends weren’t razored as sharply as expected, that minor oversight was enough to excuse the latest wrong to my sacred hair, restoring my faith in a salon I was prepared to black list for life.
I departed the place with a smile and returned home to some teasing from my boyfriend, who laughingly observed that my hairstyle made me look like “a clever Asian boy”. Well… cheers. I totally needed that. I totally need people thinking I’m a clever Asian boy. But I feel so much better now, you wouldn’t believe it! And a little bit guilty as well that I cheated on my stylist in such a roundabout fashion. I kind of respect that other salon for trying their best to win me back. If I’m honest, they have actually succeeded (for the second time, as well!), and it makes me feel like it’s safe to cheat on my stylist again, providing the two of us have fallen out for good. So, uh, let’s hope that my stylist doesn’t notice, when I eventually visit this year, that a different person has cut my hair in her absence.