A few weeks ago, I called to make an appointment with the wonderful hair stylist I’d stumbled upon, only to find that she had left the salon! Of course, they wouldn’t tell me where she’d gone.
So I had to sign up with yet another new stylist. Feeling broke, I elected to go down a tier in price. Judee was in their top echelon—sixty bucks, plus tip, for a cut and style. That’s still lower than my original great stylist, whose pre-tip price had gone up to $70, but after the Summer of Desperate Penury, I hoped to find a younger (read “lower-paid”) stylist with talent.
I like to get my hair cut really short so a styling will last a couple of months. Most short women’s hairstyles have to be redone every four to six weeks; my hope is always to squeeze eight weeks out of a styling. This presents a challenge to the stylist.
Judee manufactured a cut that stayed good for more than eight weeks, which is some sort of miracle. But I’m happy if I can just skip a month between expensive stylings, bringing the annual cost down by half.
Well, the new kid produced a style that was just barely OK. and I mean just barely.
I hate bangs. They look shaggy and stupid on me, and I truly dislike hair flopping in my face. Hate it hate it hate it.
And that’s what I told the new stylist. Not once. Not twice. But three times!
What did I come away with? You got it: bangs.
Within two weeks the style started to look shapeless. By three weeks it looked shaggy. By the day before yesterday I looked like the wrath of God.
Tried to get in with my last stylist in Tempe, much as I don’t ever want to watch the campus of the Great Desert University and its grungy surroundings heave into view ever again. But no: Thanksgiving coming up, she wasn’t available. So I called the nearby fancy salon and asked for a better-quality stylist. Got one! Seventy bucks, when the tip was included. But it was worth it.
This time I dragged in a few photos of short-haired celebrities nabbed off the Internet:
Not bad, eh? Notice that none of these women are sporting damnable bangs! We decided the redhead’s hair was a lot straighter than mine; not doable. I happen to love Dame Judi Dench‘s look, she being only a bit older than I (by about a decade). And that’s just what the new stylist produced.
So. I had to pay through the schnozzola to get it, but now the hair is really short, it looks sharp as can be, and I shouldn’t have to go back for a month and a half or (with any luck) two. Penny-wise and pound foolish: if I imagined I wanted to look good, I should’ve paid the fare.
Take-away lesson: You get what you pay for. You have to decide what you want to cut corners on. What depends on your personality, your taste, and your circumstances…but some things are just not negotiable.