Hair hero

It had been over three months since my last, quite disastrous haircut. I was wondering what hairdresser to visit next time. Not that it ‘needed’ to be cut at this moment. It just was more the urge to have it cut by a barberette, giving me personal attention and who’s knows ….. perhaps not only the haircut experience of a lifetime but also a great style.

Surfing the web, I didn’t really find new options. Until I stumbled on the site of an award-winning hairdresser, a guy unfortunately, that had recently employed a new barberette. She was a ravishing blonde in her mid-thirties. Long tresses and the pictures I found later on social media showed her fashionable, friendly, and full of daring energy.

So I took the plunge and made an appointment.

A couple of days later, when arriving at the salon, at first I made a quick pass by, glancing inside through the large window. The place looked rather empty. I walked the street for a hundred yards or so and turned. Opening the door, the barberette named Louise stood right in front of me. ‘Hi, you must be Hank, my 3 o’clock date.’ I nodded to confirm.

‘Please come with me.’ She led me to her workstation. ‘Have a seat, Hank. Would you like something to drink?’ I asked for a cappuccino, which she made in record-breaking time.

She wore a short jean skirt, revealing most of her tanned legs, and a tight shirt showing her athletic build, some cleavage, and trained arms.

She came standing behind me and the chair I was sitting in. Looking at me in the mirror in front of us.

‘So what are your plans for today? With your hair, I mean.’

I tried to explain my eternal struggle with making choices, especially concerning my hair. That I surely understood that the condition of my thinning locks, receding hairline, and bald spot meant there were limits to what to expect of a new style. But …. I brought some pics on my iPhone for inspiration.

I spent hours past weeks to get the right pictures. Mostly of women. But who cares these days? Finally, I put them in two albums. The first album containing pictures of styles I was thinking that would actually do me good, in order of length. Starting from a little shorter than I had – just below my ears – to very short. Shorter than I would ever dare to go.

The second album had many pictures, to serve as extra inspiration, to solely inspire because some were a tiny extravagant.

‘Okay, show me.’

I opened my phone and the first album and handed her my iPhone.

She started swiping. ‘Well, you certainly came prepared, Hank.’ She took her time.

‘Well, to be honest, a lot of these pictures have hair cut in layers. As your hair is quite fine (this was like an understatement) I wouldn’t do that in your case.’ A minute later: ‘This one is really short at the sides.’

She was honest about my possibilities, which I appreciated very much, and I told her so.

 

‘Well, let’s go step by step. I suggest not taking too much from the back, as it is not too long right now.

As for the front, the swipe, I will cut just enough to make it look like you have more hair. Then there are the sides. To give you a bit of a disconnected look, I will shorten it to just reaching over the ear. I prefer to be safe in how much I cut. I can always cut more in the end, while if you think it’s too much, there’s no way to restore it.’

I agreed with what she said and thanked her for the overall advice.

So she started the cut and chatted a lot, which kind of distracted me from experiencing in full what she was doing. Looking at what she held up before making cuts did not give me the idea that a lot was coming off. Though looking down at the cape gave a somehow different picture.

As she was almost finished, she asked me if to keep the length at the sides – reaching an inch over my ears – or go shorter. I was very much in doubt.

‘It will look like you have more hair if you keep it like this.’ I went along with her consult.

A week later, I made the balance for this cut. I must admit it had been a long time since my hair was cut so good. But the style? It was a bit .. boring. Nothing special about it.

So – again – weep and let it grow. Or ….

 

It took me only five weeks to make a new appointment with her.

Louise did not seem to be all that surprised to see me again so soon. ‘Hope you’re not back so soon because something is wrong with the way I cut your hair?’

I replied, ‘No, surely not. It had been ages since someone cut my hair that good and with very much attention to my wishes. In fact, it’s because you did an excellent job that I am back. Only this time, now that you have my complete trust, I want to do something different.

I am thinking of going shorter. No need for you to be safe this time. I didn’t want to ask you last time. It seemed ungrateful after all your hard work and, frankly, I wasn’t ready for it.’

‘I understand, Hank. I have no problem with that. But tell me, shorter is such a general expression. How short?’

‘I’ll leave that to you, Louise. Previously, you warned me not to go for certain styles, so not one of those, I guess. Other than that, I give you total freedom.’

This came as no surprise to her. ‘ You know I can be what they call really scissor-happy. And once I get in a flow, I take quite a lot off. And when I say a lot, I mean maybe even more than you expect.’

I told her that in one way I was fed up with the longer hair I had for these past few years, but on the other hand, I was a real chicken to dare something short. Not what I would call a hair hero. I could use a bit of scissor happiness.

‘Well, I will certainly give you more like a touch-up from what you have now. At least this should go.’ She lifted my hair on the sides, showing my ears.

 

‘And depending on how daring you are today, shorter on top. Or even much shorter. Getting rid of the swipe completely.’ I held my breath.

‘If you yourself don’t feel brave today, let me be your hair hero. If you say you trust me, of course. But mind you, that once I begin, there’s no turning back.’

There was only one thing I could say to that: ‘I trust you.’

‘Okay, let’s give you the makeover of your lifetime. Make a new Hank.’ She reached for the scissors, looked at me in the mirror, and said, ‘Last chance to back out …’

I remained silent as Louise combed all my hair as straight down as possible. She then placed the kind of large pair of scissors against my forehead, just above my brows, and started cutting.

‘There goes your swipe.’

Looking down, I saw a huge pile of hair landing on the cape. She didn’t pause cutting and continued scissoring, keeping the same line, cutting all hair well above my ears. Then the back of my head, which I found a bit scary. That short at the backside I never had. Finally, she finished her round on the other side above my ear again.

Looking in the mirror, it looked like a bowl cut and ridiculously for a guy.

‘Don’t worry, I am just cutting some bulk, and sort of a guideline.’

‘Now the scary part.’ She laughed, while she reached for the clippers. With her hand on top of my head, she softly pushed my head down, my chin almost touching my chest. I heard a click, and without any hesitation, she moved the machine from the base of my neck up to where she made a line cutting. It felt cold and naked. As she repeated to move the clippers up, I could sense the steel and my neck becoming totally hairless. In the second series up, she even moved above the line she made. I could hardly breathe.

 

She kept position behind the chair, as she pushed the clippers to the front, following the line above my ears. I looked like a shovel pushing away my grey hair as if it was snow. The snow fell down in my lap on the black cape, making it very visible how much hair she was taking off. I began to wonder if this was a mistake I made.

Then she gave the clippers a rest and took a very large pair of scissors. ‘Are you still with me?’ I failed to answer as she took the hair on top of my head between two fingers and cut it just above, leaving just an inch or two, I guessed less, on top of my head. The snow now became like a blizzard, hair falling rapidly in large locks. Too large to hold for the cape, most of it gliding down the cape to the floor.

In the mirror, it made no sense at all if she was actually going for a style.

Again, she took the clippers and clippers over comb she shortened, or rather faded where she left buzzing the sides, to connect with the very short top.

As Louise meticulously worked her magic with the clippers, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. The sensation of the clippers gliding close to my my scalp, gradually transforming my once longer locks into a closely cropped style, was both thrilling and unnerving. I watched as my hair fell to the cape in a chaotic flurry, forming a carpet of discarded strands around me.

With her expert touch, Louise blended the sides and top, creating a seamless transition from the shorter sides to the slightly longer crown. As the transformation continued, I began to catch glimpses of the new me in the mirror, and I couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of exhilaration. The stark contrast between the buzzed sides and the remaining hair on top was striking.

Louise seemed to be enjoying every moment of her creative process, her confidence and enthusiasm evident in her every move. “You’re going to love this, Hank,” she assured me as she meticulously perfected the cut.

Finally, she put down the clippers and reached for a small pair of scissors. With delicate precision, she fine-tuned the cut, ensuring every strand was exactly where she intended it to be. The result was a hairstyle that was sleek, modern, and undeniably bold.

After what felt like an eternity, Louise stepped back, allowing me to fully take in my new appearance. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of my closely cropped, stylish haircut. It was a far cry from the longer, somewhat lackluster style I had worn for years.

As I admired the transformation in the mirror, Louise said, “There you go, Hank, your new look. You’ve become quite the hair hero today.” Her tone was filled with satisfaction.

 

I couldn’t stop running my fingers over my freshly shorn scalp, reveling in the sensation of the short, neatly trimmed hair. It was a bold change, a complete departure from my previous look, but I felt invigorated and confident.

With newfound courage and a sense of adventure, I thanked Louise for her incredible work. Walking out of the salon that day, I couldn’t help but feel like a different person. My hair, once a source of hesitation and uncertainty, had become a symbol of my willingness to embrace change and take bold steps forward. I had shed the old, and in the process, I had discovered a newfound sense of confidence and self-assuredness that made me feel like a true hair hero.