Hair today, gone tomorrow...
Lady Bracknell is not ashamed to admit that she had a tear in her rheumy old eye this afternoon when she bid farewell to her hairdresser, V. And that it had nothing whatsoever to do with the standard of the haircut she had just received.
No, V is off to pastures new. County Kildare, in fact. Now, not only is County Kildare so far away that the cost of travelling thither for a haircut every six weeks would be prohibitive, but V is actually giving up hairdressing.
Gentlemen readers are unlikely to appreciate the full gravity of this situation, but Lady Bracknell is confident that the majority of her lady readers will empathise with her plight.
Prior to a friend's recommendation to patronise V's establishment, Lady Bracknell had always approached hairdressers' salons with approximately the same degree of enthusiasm as she does dentists' surgeries. Lady Bracknell's "crowning glory" is nothing of the sort. It is fine and it is as straight as a ruler. Her ladyship's esteemed father was once heard to comment that, having been "blessed" with the same hair himself, he was only too glad to go bald. Being so fine, it must needs be cut with great precision if it is to present an even semi-acceptable appearance.
But its recalcitrant behaviour was no match for V's finely-honed skills. It has been coaxed into the semblance of an attractive head of hair, and regular applications of a vermilion dye have ensured that Lady Bracknell is unlikely to fade mousily into the background at the very occasional social gathering she has the stamina to attend.
However, it is not the loss of V's abilities Lady Bracknell mourns this evening so much as the loss of her company. She may be a traitor to her class, but Lady Bracknell finds herself unequal to the social demands placed upon her to treat all who work in shops and other service industries with icy superiority. When one's opportunities for social interaction are proscribed by one's physical frailness, it seems positively wasteful to squander them on such petty snobberies.
V is a feisty and intelligent woman after Lady Bracknell's own heart. Her ladyship's overriding memory of the times they have spent together will be one of helpless laughter. What lies ahead for V in Ireland is as yet unknown, but Lady Bracknell has no doubt that V will meet whatever comes her way with merriment and good humour. (And that she will spit in its eye should it have the temerity to attempt to break her spirit.)
Safe journey, V. They broke the mould after they made you.
No, V is off to pastures new. County Kildare, in fact. Now, not only is County Kildare so far away that the cost of travelling thither for a haircut every six weeks would be prohibitive, but V is actually giving up hairdressing.
Gentlemen readers are unlikely to appreciate the full gravity of this situation, but Lady Bracknell is confident that the majority of her lady readers will empathise with her plight.
Prior to a friend's recommendation to patronise V's establishment, Lady Bracknell had always approached hairdressers' salons with approximately the same degree of enthusiasm as she does dentists' surgeries. Lady Bracknell's "crowning glory" is nothing of the sort. It is fine and it is as straight as a ruler. Her ladyship's esteemed father was once heard to comment that, having been "blessed" with the same hair himself, he was only too glad to go bald. Being so fine, it must needs be cut with great precision if it is to present an even semi-acceptable appearance.
But its recalcitrant behaviour was no match for V's finely-honed skills. It has been coaxed into the semblance of an attractive head of hair, and regular applications of a vermilion dye have ensured that Lady Bracknell is unlikely to fade mousily into the background at the very occasional social gathering she has the stamina to attend.
However, it is not the loss of V's abilities Lady Bracknell mourns this evening so much as the loss of her company. She may be a traitor to her class, but Lady Bracknell finds herself unequal to the social demands placed upon her to treat all who work in shops and other service industries with icy superiority. When one's opportunities for social interaction are proscribed by one's physical frailness, it seems positively wasteful to squander them on such petty snobberies.
V is a feisty and intelligent woman after Lady Bracknell's own heart. Her ladyship's overriding memory of the times they have spent together will be one of helpless laughter. What lies ahead for V in Ireland is as yet unknown, but Lady Bracknell has no doubt that V will meet whatever comes her way with merriment and good humour. (And that she will spit in its eye should it have the temerity to attempt to break her spirit.)
Safe journey, V. They broke the mould after they made you.
posted by
Lady Bracknell | Tuesday, April 18, 2006
4 Comments:
Should you be looking for another V to do your hair, I'll gladly put myself forward for the honour.
Then again, er, I once cut my own hair. I still shiver at the memory. Maybe not, eh?
I'll do it ma'am, experienced as I am in the tonsorial arts.
My mum was a hairdresser for 34 years, most of which in the small town where I grew up. Despite having moved into a new career almost three years ago now, she still has old customers approach her in the most unlikely places, waving scissors at her and requesting a do.
Most recently she recieved a phone call on Easter Sunday morning from a young woman who'd decided to drunkenly colour her own hair in the middle of the previous night. Undoubtedly, a good hairdresser is hard to come by, but surely there's no need to resort to such measures!
Now that I live too far away for my mum to be my regular hairdresser, I've moved on to find the fabulous Mario at Fluff. Once you overcome the initial haircut-induced anxiety, I'm sure you'll find someone who makes your hair as happy as Mario makes mine.
Whatever you do, please don't get drunk, cut it yourself and then call V in tears. It's not a good look!
Lady Bracknell takes it very kindly in the two gentlemen to offer to take over her follicular care, but thinks she will struggle through with V's partner (now ex-partner), C.
She is fortunate in that C has tended to her tresses (such as they are) once before when V was taken ill, so she has no cause to dread the experience when next it happens.
Lady Bracknell also thanks Stella for her kind words.
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