So I was sitting in the break room at work – eating my lunch, reading a book, and basically ignoring my coirkers’ conversation. And then I heard something that almost made me choke on my yogurt.

There were three female coirkers discussing various problems  they have had with their hairdressers. Two of the coirkers go to the same salon and were bitching about “the girl” who had done both of their hair on different occasions. Coirker 1 had her hair colored and ended up with her hair fried. She complained to the hairdresser whose reply was “Well, your house must be really dry. You should buy a humidifier.”

Wow. Classy. But it gets better.

Second coirker chimes in with her story. The same hairdresser did highlights for her, giving her (in her words) “these really fake-looking red and blonde streaks.” The hairdresser also started the highlights about an inch from the scalp, making it look like the color had grown out even though it had only been a few days since she had it done. The highlights also started to look “streaky” and the hair was very dry. She went back to complain and this time the hairdresser went for the one-two combination of “Your hair must grow really fast.” and “It must be the product you use.”


For an industry that relies so heavily on word-of-mouth advertising – if you want to get your hair done the first thing you do is ask someone you know where they have theirs done – this is just a craptastic attitude to take. Nothing was this woman’s fault – it was the environment, the lighting, the phase of the moon, the shampoo her client used. Not her fault; oh, no. Both coirkers had to go to the salon’s owner to have their botched hair fixed, Fried-Hair Coirker ended up spending $60 on “product” to fix her hair. This was the part that made me choke on my yogurt.

The last time I purchased shampoo and conditioner, I spent about six dollars for both. I use them sparingly and the same bottles have lasted several months and are still half-full. The closest thing to “product” that my hair sees is my aloe vera & glycerin spray. Sixty bucks is a hell of a lot of money to spend on stuff designed to get washed down your drain. All you are doing is making expensive greywater.

Coirker 3, who had been listening to all of this quite raptly, chimes in with a recommendation for her guy – who is “very slow, but he really takes his time. And it’s pretty reasonable at $65 for a cut and shampoo.”

It’s yogurt-choking time again.

My haircut situation is sort of unique in that I haven’t had one in at least twelve years (I can’t actually remember when it was but it was sometime in the late Nineties – it was Labor Day Weekend, if that narrows it down any) and have no plans to get one in the future. The last person who cut it was Mother Dearest. And just so you don’t think it was a “Run fetch a clean bowl and my gardening shears, girl!” sort of thing, she was once a licensed cosmetologist and went to school for this stuff. She was even a hair model back in the nineteen-mumblies.

With that in mind, I might not be the best person to judge how expensive a haircut is – but damn. That is a lot of money to spend just to sever strands of dead cells. All I could think of was how many books I could buy with that much money.