Apropos of this morning’s post, I’m happy to report that I survived the haircut relatively unscathed.
Turns out I was in good hands with Deirdre at Bellingham’s Studio Galactica.
That said, I think I’ve put my finger on my primary difficulty with hairstylists in the past.
You see, I’m monolingual. I don’t speak Salon.
Almost every time I get a haircut, at least one thing doesn’t turn out the way I explained I’d like it to. And, it’s happened enough times, with a variety of hairstylists, leading me to the conclusion that it’s not because every stylist I visit is incompetent or hearing impaired.
Rather, the Salon language has an extensive vocabulary of technical terms, and I come in and stumble around, an ignorant layman, “Um, well, I’d like it kinda short here, a little longer there, maybe an inch of sideburn.”
So, the next time I see Deirdre I’m going to share this theory of mine and see what she thinks. At the very least, it will be something to talk about during those awkward haircut conversations.