It was another one of those typical lazy Saturday afternoons, so ordinary that it looked like it would be just like any other typical lazy Saturday afternoon.
After a late breakfast at Alexis, A wanted to go cut his hair and suggested we go to the small Chinese saloon next to Ampang mini mart. I had once patroned the place over a year ago when I was in a rush to do my hair for a wedding, and came out with these fabulous long loose curls, of which I got many compliments for, all for the stellar price of RM12. I shrugged and thought, my hair could do with a good washing and head massage, and perhaps a slight trim. Why not, it’s cheap, it’s close by, what’s the worst that could happen?
I was too lazy to drive all the way across town to get the usual beating from my hairdresser who always tsked and pfbtted as she lifted my hair in different directions while scolding me for not conditioning enough. After all, it was suppose to be a typical lazy Saturday afternoon, too lazy to entail a trip to Hartamas.
We walked into the saloon which seemed brisk with customers. I was ushered by a skinny Chinese male stylist with an orangey barnet, to a seat on the opposite end of the shop, out of line of sight from A.
“Just wash and blow ah?”
“Actually, I’d like a wash and short trim, thank you.”
“Trim how ah?”
“Hmm, I’d like about 1 ½ inches off the back, and a long side fringe with a right side parting.”
“You want long fringe ah?”
“Yes, a long side fringe.”
“You have vely thick hair ah.”
“Yes, I am aware of that.”
“You want to thin it a bit ah?”
“Um, not really….”
“Sure ah? Velly thick ah at the back here (gathering my hair for emphasis)…”
“Um, okay, but just a little bit, okay?”
“Don’t worry ah.”
I settled back into my swivel chair with a copy of the January issue of Glamour as he lathered up my hair with shampoo and started massaging deeply into my scalp, the sounds of blaring hairdryers, gossipy customers and the noisy cantopop playing in the saloon slowly fading away into the background.
Ahh, this is the life. I should really get other people to wash my hair more often.
Ouch, okay buddy no need to knead so hard, you’re not making bread here, okay?
Eek too hot too hot water too hot
Ah, okay that’s better
Ooo, that’s a cute dress. Where’s it fr…shit, it’s by Urban Outfitters. It’s always the labels we can’t get on this side of the world, innit
I wonder how short A’s going to cut his hair, I hope he doesn’t get a buzz cut again
Ooo, cute shoes. I think I saw a pair like that at Nine West
I hate American magazines
Hmm, what to eat for lunch
Wow, this woman survived both breast and ovarian cancer. That reminds me I should go see my gyn…hey, that’s a lot of hair on the floor….
Wait a minute.
That’s MY hair on the floor.
Wait…what the…what the hell is he doing to my hair??!!!
“Excuse me wait, wait, stop cutting! What are you doing?”
“I give you long side fringe here ah and at the back, I thin out sikit and…”
“Hello!!! Look! You cut all of my hair off at the back, I have no more hair at the back and and, the top is all big and…BIG!”
“No ah, I just thin out at the back here one…”
“No, look! Look here! My hair is all on the floor! I have a rat tail at the back! Do you remember how much hair I had? I had a LOT OF HAIR!!!”
Our little scene started to attract a lot of attention within the saloon as the other customers started to stare. The man who I assumed was the head stylist appeared.
“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”
“He… he…I..I… I have no more hair! Look it’s all thin at the back and big at the front!!”
“What did you tell him to do?”
“I said I just wanted a trim at the back, a long side fringe and he asked me if I wanted to thin it and I said a little, but look! LOOK HERE. Oh my god. I HAVE A MULLET.”
“Okay, okay don’t panic Ma’am. Do you mind if I try to fix it for you?”
At that point I just couldn’t talk. All I could do was sit mutely and stare at my reflection in the mirror. All I wanted was a wash and trim. A cheap wash and trim. And now, now I am the owner of a very authentic mullet.
“Okay ma’am, don’t worry. What I’m going to do is thin it out at the top, but don’t worry, I am not going to take off any length here at the back. Okay?”
I was born in the 80’s. I am an 80’s child. And even then, when it was actually at the height of fashion, never once did I own a mullet. A bowl cut maybe. But never a mullet.
And that’s when I started to cry.
I tilted my head down in shame so the head stylist had to stop cutting. The perpetrator of my mullet with his ugly orangey barnet stood meekly behind us, chastened.
“Ma’am. Please don’t cry. Is there anything I can get for you?”
“….some...some tissue….and my boyfriend.”
A appeared next to me, and did a double take.
“I have a mullet.”
“You, well, it’s, it’s not a…it’s not that bad.”
“It’s a mullet, A.”
“It’s, uh…LOOK HERE sir, can you please do something about this, you gave my girlfriend a mullet.”
Tears continued to stream down my face as the head stylist slowly thinned out the top of my hair to balance the whole shape so I looked less like a mushroom and more like a human. After he was done, I couldn’t bear the embarrassment of crying in a hair saloon that played bad cantopop all because of the man with the ugly orangey barnet anymore, and silently stood up to remove the plastic robe I was wearing while surveying all my hair on the floor.
A cussed out the head stylist a little more before we left the saloon.
It had started out just like one of those typical lazy Saturday afternoons, so ordinary that it looked like it would be just like any other typical lazy Saturday afternoon.
4 comments:
woman, when you go back to your real stylist, he/she/it is going to really nag for going cheap and chastisize you (or cut off your left breast, atleast). but no worries, it will all grow back. the way you strategically tie back your hair also does help. just wash your hair frequently so that it will grow faster than you know it.
omg you poor thing!!
i once had a lunatic at vidal sassoon academy cut my hair. i was but a wee poor student and 3.5 quid seemed a good deal.
he eyed me from afar and as we were led like lambs to the slaughter practically pounced on me and told me his grand plans (layer it, but keep the length). i thought i was due for a change anyway and said yes. big mistake.
what he actually did was dry cut *under* the main body of the hair, leaving the upper part long. edward scissorhands had it good. three haircuts later hairdressers would still query the weird shape of the cut.
he looked like kurt kobain (just before the suicide) and his name was henrie. after, he *took pictures* of his handiwork from all angles while i stood there in mute shock.
if i ever meet him again i will probably do my best to maim his hands.
don’t worry, your hair will grow; the mortification will pass, and you will laugh about it one day.
hang in there.
yeay to finding your blog. have always enjoyed your writing!
my most recent haircut, i reckon, have left me with a mullett too! dang. as a result, i have been spending mucho moolah on hairbands and clips at evita at an attempt to flatten them. am abandoning attempts to become 'sophisticated look' for 'bohemian chic' now. aiyo.
giggled at lita's comment.
something has to be done about these time-warped-mullet-loving hairdressers! though i feel a bit better that others too have suffered. maybe its a rite of passage, of sorts.
i too have been spulrging on hair accessories. have accumulated 3 white hairbands so far.
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