Friday, November 05, 2004
Hair Razing
!!Warning - meme rant!!
Okay this is a piece about a hair cut.
I had my hair cut yesterday. Just in case you haven't figured it out yet. For the first time in my entire Singaporean existence, I decided to have a "proper" hair cut, instead of the usual tug/obliterate/lacerate sheep-shearing routine you get at the $7 indian barbers (with their aging fake haircutting diplomas mounted proudly on the wall) who are more concerned with turnaround time than customer satisfaction.
I decided to try Palace D'Esthetique since it was recommended by a friend. The name would have put me off instantly, but said friend hasn't been wrong so far so what the hey. She even recommended a particular barber, Jimmy.
It was an interesting experience stepping up to the tiny little terrier manning the reception desk and receiving the usual look of disdain (must be something about the way I look or something).
"Yes? What u want?" (sniff)
"Oh hello, I'd like a haircut"
There was that instant's confusion in her eyes as she picked up something... slightly different about the way I spoke (unintentional), to the usual ahbeng customer. I guess it's fading fast as I re-acclimatise to our heat, but there's a little bit of England left somewhere in the bowels of my vowels.
And then suddenly she was all nice. It was like I'd waved a magic wand or something.
"Ah, sit here, you want drink? You want magazine? Sit here instead! Jimmy cutting, will be finished very soon."
O-kay.
I then endured a 10-minute shampoo, during which time I marvelled to myself how thorough they are over here in the orient. Over at hair by fairy you get a thirty second jobbie. I guess it's got to do with all that extra... perspiration... we engage in over here.
I couldn't help liking Jimmy when I met him. He looks forty-something but has poofy dyed-brown hair and is VERY SERIOUS about his work. I was tempted to ask if he came out of a hong kong movie.
It was obvious from the outset that Jimmy and my hair weren't getting along. My hair was created by a Fairy from Hair by Fairy in Neal's Yard, London, and to be honest I think the guy was probably tripping (?on fairy dust?) as he cut my hair, so it's got this strange asymmetry to the fringe which I've grown into liking.
After several disapproving glares (from various angles. I must say the man is quite the diva. You'd think he was directing a movie rather than cropping my un-locks) he finally huffed
"You want to keep like this is it?"
(...)
"Yes please."
So he valiantly gets his chin down and his shears out, and metal flashes all over the place. Amazingly, no (this was a first for me) pain at all. No small nicks, no tugs. And gradually the slightly bedraggled-me began to assume a neater, sharper look. (Sue me, I've spent the last three months wandering around London and the United States...) Finally, he could take it no longer and ripped a hairclip out of his... god knows where (he didn't seem to have any pockets on him, which made me realise immediately that he must be gay) and viciously pegged my stray forelock to my scalp.
The end result wasn't bad at all (pretty dang good to be honest, although I now look like a boy scout with a crooked fringe) but it was obvious after several more mutely-microscopic examinations from various camera angles that he didn't have a clue what to do with it.
So he whips out the gel, and I think aha! he's finally onto it, he's gonna do the Fairy thing and make my hair stick out all odd angles like those weirdos on pop idol (UK and Singapore. They have the same hair.) but no... he... coiffs my hair. I actually found it kinda amusing looking at myself going puffy-headed in the mirror. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. I looked like something out of that 60s show.
meme out.
*****
In other news, it appears that SheWhoShallNotMustNotAndNeverShallBeNamed has cottoned on to re-minisce's dodge tactics and altered her web searches to include the term SheWhoSh***NotBeN***D. Bugger. Brings to mind the Borg. Time to change tack, from now on we'll use the term MoldyVort.
Captain, there're thousands of elliptical latex tubes approaching our ship and adhering to our hull!
Oh my God. Scotty, status!
She'll nae hold cap'n, they're Cling Ons!
Okay this is a piece about a hair cut.
I had my hair cut yesterday. Just in case you haven't figured it out yet. For the first time in my entire Singaporean existence, I decided to have a "proper" hair cut, instead of the usual tug/obliterate/lacerate sheep-shearing routine you get at the $7 indian barbers (with their aging fake haircutting diplomas mounted proudly on the wall) who are more concerned with turnaround time than customer satisfaction.
I decided to try Palace D'Esthetique since it was recommended by a friend. The name would have put me off instantly, but said friend hasn't been wrong so far so what the hey. She even recommended a particular barber, Jimmy.
It was an interesting experience stepping up to the tiny little terrier manning the reception desk and receiving the usual look of disdain (must be something about the way I look or something).
"Yes? What u want?" (sniff)
"Oh hello, I'd like a haircut"
There was that instant's confusion in her eyes as she picked up something... slightly different about the way I spoke (unintentional), to the usual ahbeng customer. I guess it's fading fast as I re-acclimatise to our heat, but there's a little bit of England left somewhere in the bowels of my vowels.
And then suddenly she was all nice. It was like I'd waved a magic wand or something.
"Ah, sit here, you want drink? You want magazine? Sit here instead! Jimmy cutting, will be finished very soon."
O-kay.
I then endured a 10-minute shampoo, during which time I marvelled to myself how thorough they are over here in the orient. Over at hair by fairy you get a thirty second jobbie. I guess it's got to do with all that extra... perspiration... we engage in over here.
I couldn't help liking Jimmy when I met him. He looks forty-something but has poofy dyed-brown hair and is VERY SERIOUS about his work. I was tempted to ask if he came out of a hong kong movie.
It was obvious from the outset that Jimmy and my hair weren't getting along. My hair was created by a Fairy from Hair by Fairy in Neal's Yard, London, and to be honest I think the guy was probably tripping (?on fairy dust?) as he cut my hair, so it's got this strange asymmetry to the fringe which I've grown into liking.
After several disapproving glares (from various angles. I must say the man is quite the diva. You'd think he was directing a movie rather than cropping my un-locks) he finally huffed
"You want to keep like this is it?"
(...)
"Yes please."
So he valiantly gets his chin down and his shears out, and metal flashes all over the place. Amazingly, no (this was a first for me) pain at all. No small nicks, no tugs. And gradually the slightly bedraggled-me began to assume a neater, sharper look. (Sue me, I've spent the last three months wandering around London and the United States...) Finally, he could take it no longer and ripped a hairclip out of his... god knows where (he didn't seem to have any pockets on him, which made me realise immediately that he must be gay) and viciously pegged my stray forelock to my scalp.
The end result wasn't bad at all (pretty dang good to be honest, although I now look like a boy scout with a crooked fringe) but it was obvious after several more mutely-microscopic examinations from various camera angles that he didn't have a clue what to do with it.
So he whips out the gel, and I think aha! he's finally onto it, he's gonna do the Fairy thing and make my hair stick out all odd angles like those weirdos on pop idol (UK and Singapore. They have the same hair.) but no... he... coiffs my hair. I actually found it kinda amusing looking at myself going puffy-headed in the mirror. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. I looked like something out of that 60s show.
meme out.
*****
In other news, it appears that SheWhoShallNotMustNotAndNeverShallBeNamed has cottoned on to re-minisce's dodge tactics and altered her web searches to include the term SheWhoSh***NotBeN***D. Bugger. Brings to mind the Borg. Time to change tack, from now on we'll use the term MoldyVort.
Captain, there're thousands of elliptical latex tubes approaching our ship and adhering to our hull!
Oh my God. Scotty, status!
She'll nae hold cap'n, they're Cling Ons!
