Thursday, March 27, 2008


Not that I'm any kind of expert, but a visit to a hair salon must be something like a trip to a cathouse.

I'd noticed myself getting a tad shaggy these days, so I made an appointment for today at noon, a little place near work. The girl on the phone asked if I wanted to "see" anyone in particular, and as I hadn't patronized this place in a good long time, I said no.

I walked into the place and announced myself. Unisex hair places try very hard for that ultramodern feel, lots of brushed aluminum fixtures, photos of sexy models on the walls, glass and chrome furniture -- I'm sure it's the outcome of a lot of very careful psychological research. All the stylists in the place, nearly all of them quite attractive women, are dressed in black, black, black.

Again, the receptionist asked me that rather intensely uncomfortable question: Is there anyone in particular I'd like to "see"?

Now, for me, a haircut from a sexy babe in stylish black clothing is a rather, how do we say, erotic experience. It is, I'll admit here and now, the closest thing I get in my life to permission to perv out a little bit. From the shampoo, her fingers massaging my scalp with foofy shampoo, to the cut itself, as she leans in very close to get just the right angle and a pert breast brushes my back, her breath and perfume mingling with the fruity hair-care-product smell of the place, as, in the mirror, all the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo: The whole thing serves to put rather unwholesome thoughts into the Jingo cranium.

And I don't think I'm alone in this dirty little secret.

So asking me if there is anyone in particular I'd like to "see" is a big semantic matzoh-ball. The intention of the question and its interpretation are oceans apart. Most female customers will understand it -- correctly -- as a challenge to assess the competence of the stylist who gave her her last cut; got a good one, repeat. Bad one, move on. This male customer, who happens to like women very very much thanks for asking, thinks it's exactly the same question that they ask at the front desk of the Mustang Ranch. I do suppress the urge to look around the room until my eyes light on a cutie-pie who's just my type and point and say, "Well, that petite blonde in the ass-pants and sleeveless t-shirt, she looks like a goer!"

But just barely.

Instead, I shake my head, a little sadly. "No, I'm new here." Thinking, I'm at your mercy. Please pick me a nice one. Oh, and by the way, if you can read my mind, you'll be forgiven for declaring me a complete and utter pig and throwing me into the street.

I got the only dude in the place.

What's worse, he gave me a real nice haircut. I got his card.

I can't go back.


John B. said...

I know exactly what you mean about attractive fems at the salons. because I have a "ponytail", that is, I wear my hair long I don't get it cut very often...2 to 3 times a year, max. But I actually look forward to it for exactly the reasons you say. I try to remain very cool. Who knows if it works. Probabaly not.

Hey, maybe they thought you are gay (not that there's anything wrong with that...)

Linkmeister said...

I've been going to the same neighborhood barber shop for 20 years, and the proprietor and her employees have aged right along with me.

What I'm sayin' is, I don't have the choice problem you had.

SV said...

Hey, Neddie - it's not just guys who, um, reeeeeeely enjoy the experience. I used to go to a salon in Philly that was way more expensive than I would have chosen, if is hadn't been for Giuseppe (I swear, his real name).

From the initial meeting where he brutally looked you up and down, but then smiled and told you you were already beautiful, to wash where he laid you back, massaged you with warm soapy water and asked you what you wanted, to the cut when he towered over you, gently positioning the tilt of your head and then leaning in with those well muscled arms to firmly take total control...

Sorry, where was I?

Anonymous said...
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Anonymous said...

Dude... at least you have hair. I go to a detailer and get the old noggin buffed out.

Buck said...

Well, Neddie, there are a couple of hair salons that I know of in one of the southern states that are said to be real cathouses. In fact, I unknowingly went to one and when they realized I just wanted a hair cut, they wouldn't take me anymore after my first visit. Ask around in some small towns down there in VA, you're bound to have a few like the ones in my state.

Halloween Jack said...

My own pate has had its crop recede to the point where I used a shaving gizmo called a Headblade to facilitate the in-shower process. Quite often, after I'm done, I'll rub my hands over my own scalp and think, "Baby, that's smooth."

Hmmm.... maybe I should treat myself to a scalp massage...

Kevin Hayden said...

Funniest read of the day. And you can go back. Find out what days the dude has off and be sure to get the name of the blonde right.

You gotta swerve, to maintain the perv.

Akatabi said...

You're probably safe to ask for Crystal or Jessica.

Neddie said...

Buck: Do they have signs out front?

Kevin: Well, exactly. You have my dilemma down perfectly. Do I stake the place out, checking when Danilo has the day off, and then dope out the blonde cutie's work hours -- and her name? All of this in pursuit of a less-than-completely erotic encounter? It all seems a bit, you know, obsessive.

Better just to let my tresses grow out and try another salon. There are others, you know.

blue girl said...

Jeddie, you crack. me. up.

Unfortunately, I've never experienced what sv describes above. Most Danilo's that have attended to me in the past would probably way prefer to have attended to you.

Also, Most female customers will understand it -- correctly -- as a challenge to assess the competence of the stylist who gave her her last cut .... Bad one, move on.

A woman would find it very difficult to "move on" to a different stylist in the same salon. You should know that from watching Seinfeld! You can't cheat on your stylist right in front of her!! You have to put up with at least five or six bad haircuts, then agonize over your disloyalty forever before finding a new salon altogether.

It's sheer torture. Get it? Sheer torture?

billy pilgrim said...

Best deep tissue massage I ever had was from a gay dude, in the front parlor of his home.

Yes, intensely uncomfortable even for this supposedly open minded liberal from the moment he asked me to strip down to shorts and lay under the sheet started to loosen up my limbs and then he hit that big muscle right below my shoulder blade where all the anger goes and....

and then I woke up an hour later, feeling like several million fresh new dollar bills.

But at least I don't have to find a new hairstylist.

bobby lightfoot said...

Ha ha ha ha ha!

You can't go back!

Fuck all th' other crap on the internet!