Dang, all I ever get is espresso....
Huh. My barber memories are all of mounted deer heads, Guns and Ammo and Popular Mechanics, Braves games on TBS, and the faint smell of alcohol. Something tells me you all go to different sorts of places.
Had a haircut at Salon Salon in New York in 1981--they offered me white wine, which i took to be polite, but did not drink. They also provided a wicker basket with a plush pillow of an appropriate size for my dog (a border collie), and brought her a bowl of ice water. She slurped a few sips to be polite, being a very well-mannered and considerate dog.
If only my saloon had valet parking, it would have made it 100%. Parking is a blood pain where it is...u really need that glass of wine after that!
Hmmm. Over here saloons customarily serve alcohol, but do not cut hair, unless you include odd scraps that might be torn out in a fight...
Them Angle-ish got weird uses for all kinds of ordinary words--they also use saloon to describe a sedan automobile . . .
Nothing like parking, having some wine and driving home I always say
I went to Frederic Feddai salon in New York once for a hair cut. They have five levels there (as opposed to only four at Toni and Guy). I tried out the fifth level, and was offered white wine. I drank mine, but not for the purpose of being polite. And it's a good thing I did, because the hair cut I got was damned awful. And then I was impolite. But what the heck, my inhibitions were lowered because of the wine, and I was pissed.
Wish me luck folks...with the brother's wedding coming up, I am going to the salon today (saloon later, maybe) and I can't get the top dog, but have been referred to a "senior stylist". I will still only get offered espresso...
Good luck, if you look like a poodle afterwards please post a photo
Good luck, Cav, but maybe the saloon before is the wiser course.
Cav, when offered the espresso, say, "Thanks! But I should warn you, coffee makes me --"
Oh, never mind. It's a subject I introduce too much as it is, and Lola's already here, so I don't need to get her attention.
laughing........very funny Patio.
I feel that going to the hairdresser is just something you have to do - just grin and bear it - so to speak.
Iused to go to one of those super trendy hairdressers - you know - lots of music and noise, and chat, and competition cutting and the like. Although the owner cut my hair, she no longer did the colouring, and results, from the apprectices, were always variable. And drama! Everything was a drama. One week I decided it was all just too hard - I wanted to heave the hairdresser feeling better, not drained.
Now I go to a much more low-key salon - where unfortunately, I'm seldom offered alcohol (and parking is a problem). This also had not been without drama - but of a different sort.
My hairdresser is a relaxed Italo-Australian in his early 30's, and married. One day, during the discussion, he mentioned that his wife was pregnant with their first child. Out of the blue, a cold chill came over me, and a feeling of doom. Throughout the pregnancy I would ask about his wife's condition, but she was well and trouble-free. But still I felt bad. As the time approached, and he was quite excited, I felt worse.
On my first appointment, after the baby was due, the salon was noisy, but there were no baby photos. I asked, and apparently the baby had died in the womb the day it was due. I was terribly upset. I hadn't been able to say anything to the hairdresser previously, but I had just known something was wrong all along.
My laid back hairdresser was rocked, but his wife went into a mega-depression. We often then discussed the state of depression, and I guess I provided some sort of outlet for him - as his wife couldn't discuss things at all. She finally got professional help, and has recovered, and they have had a subsequent successful pregnancy, but she is still fragile.
I was glad not to feel so bad when he told me about the second pregnancy.
I chickened out and rescheduled for Monday
Patiodog, I like this response to the espresso offer: "Ahh, nature's seat warmer, thanks!" Then I watch 'em squirm...
I once had a hairdresser who was deaf and mute . . . those were wonderful days . . .
Now this is creepy....my hairdresser is a. straight (that's not so creepy, but...) b. dating one of my brother's girlfriend's from high school (no, not in high school, just from high school)...still, that does creep me out a bit.
My last stylist I fear was blind, yikes
Crikey! What something or other from small occasion springs!
I think Gautam meant to say salon, really I do - but Lola pissed is funny, because pissed means drunk here. I think she must be what we call here a one pot screamer!
Margo has premonitions and wants to heave her hairdresser - and WHAT this person was doing in her tummy I have NO idea!
