Sunday, August 13, 2006

What Would Seinfeld Do?


For years I've taken way too much guff from my hair. Don't misunderstand - this isn't some sort of metrosexual rant. So long as I can run a comb through my locks and have everything stay in a reasonable shape, I'm good to go. My problem is haircuts or, more specifically, finding someone who can give me a decent haircut.

Trish has been cutting my impenetrable helmut of hair for more than a few years. Until I met her I swear I hadn't had a decent haircut since I was 12. Given the thick, wavy mess that passes for My Hair, most barbers over the years have left me looking like (a) I had fallen asleep in a steambath, (b) a prison escapee, or (c) someone recovering from chemo treatments. You think I'm exaggerating? Check the photo albums.

We first encountered each other in a mall hair salon where she wielded the scissors while I sat and let her work her magic. She always did a great job and could carry the conversation where lesser stylists (is that the right term?) would clip in awkward silence. Knowing a good thing when I spot it, I made sure I hooked up with Trish every 6 weeks or so. Even when Trish left the mall and started working out of her basement studio, I stayed True Blue - even though it meant a 30 minute drive each way.

This was the routine for the past 8 years or so; but I eventually took her for granted. The hour of driving for a decent haircut began to wear on me and blinded my memories of bad barbers in times past.

I stopped going to Trish.

It was kind of easy at first. I simply neglected to make an appointment after the Christmas holidays. As 6 weeks bled into 7 and then 8, I passed the point of no return. I needed a haircut. Bad. But I was afraid to call Trish because it had been too long between visits and she'd know something was up. But I needed that haircut, all the same. And once someone else touched my locks and my 6-week Trish-fix turned into something like 12 weeks, there was no going back.

It's been over 7 months since I saw Trish. I've been slumming around this new Supercuts, and they generally have a done decent job for me. But they're all 'corporate' with their racks of salon accessories (structurizing paste? voluming gel? white grapefruit clarifying?) and their handy wall chart of assembly-line haircut styles such as The Tobias (see above), The Rib, and The Keith.

They don't care about me - it's all about the money. But they do an adequate job and so I pretend I like it there. But they're not like Trish. We had something special.

3 comments:

Kid Dork said...

I feel your pain--which is why I only get three haircuts a year. (That picture in the Freeps? Ancient. I look more like Alan Moore now) When I do go to get shorn, I go to Prana--it's run by Eddie and Ian, two New Wave fans coasting close to forty. Ian takes about two hours to cut my hair, and it looks great. Or so I hear. They'll set you back around $30 or so, but it's miles above Supercuts. Okay. Plug over.

Sonny Drysdale said...

Crazy Legs - you don't know me but your post is an obvious cry for help.

So suck it up - but do it in a way that causes you both the least embarrassment. Make a trip to Port Huron and send Trish a post-card saying that you've been out of the country for the past half a year on a 'Homeland Security' matter that you are not at liberty to discuss.

And then make an appointment and make that half-hour drive out there. And then tip her and tip her well and make your next appointment.

Son, we never know when our time is up. So when we find a good woman (or lover of the same sex if that's your bag,) or a good butcher - or a good barber, you let them know they are important and you don't take them for granted.

So go boy, go - you have half a year of chit-chat to catch up on.

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