Every day, my sister the military woman had been complaining about the state of her hair -- grown out and curly and long. And as I've already mentioned, I wasn't so happy about my shaggy mess either.
"It has to be a gay man," she said. "Women just can't cut my hair, they make me look like a guy." She took herself off to our concierge, on the principle that it takes one to know one.
It was not our usual concierge, but another one, even more cutting edge than the first. "Oh, you must go to Chau, at Niko," he said. "He's the best!"
Chau had appointments free on Wednesday, and we booked ourselves in. After another long walk across town, we found it (quite near John Fluevog Shoes, in fact). It was shiningly white, with stunningly unflattering lighting; sitting in the waiting area before the full-length mirror on the opposite wall, I could not escape the fact that I am totally nearing forty. (Very poor choice, for a salon, I think.)
Chau was everything one could have asked for and more. He was a wisp of an Asian lad, with a shock-blonde fauxhawk, gloriously artfag glasses, skintight jeans and a diamante Bebe belt. His face was depilated save for an epicene postage stamp of feathery beard on the tip of his chin, and he wore full makeup.
My sister went first. "This is totally overwhelming your face," he said. "I'm going to go really sleek, and emphasise your features. Oh, you really should get your eyebrows done." (Everyone says this to my sister. She has lovely strong dark eyebrows, but as Michael Caine says to Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality, "Eyebrows! There should be two!" -- there is a certain inclination to wildness in them.) He chatted blithely as he cut and shaped -- "You went to Celebrities on a Friday? Nobody goes out in Vancouver on a Friday, honey! I was there on Tuesday, me and Maryam, we did a makeover."
People cruised in and out, ladies who lunch, mostly, kissing and greeting Chau and Maryam (the salon owner) on both cheeks. "I saw you on TV!" one said.
"When? I'm always on TV," Chau said.
"You did that makeover!" Apparently he and Maryam do makeovers on CityTV.
"Oh, yes! We did this makeover, on a Persian guy -- total haircut, makeup, everything. He hated it! You'd think he'd be used to makeup, he works in television. He looked ten years younger! Hated the cut, too. But he called us up, a few days later, to tell us he loved it now."
I could see my sister's lips tightening in the mirror, and I could tell she wasn't too pleased with her haircut either. Chau drenched her in product -- "Gel, honey? Oh, not gel! You should try a pomade..." -- and sleeked it to her head. I thought she looked like Karen Kain after her haircut.
"Do you think I should get my eyebrows done?" my sister asked me.
"Sure. You'll just have to maintain them." But apparently eyebrows are this salon's particular specialty; Maryam does threading. And wonder of wonders, my sister decided to go for it while I got a cut.
"You're visiting? How long are you here for?" Chau said.
"Just till the end of the week," I said.
"Where are you from?"
"Near Toronto."
"Oh, I like Toronto. I'm not from Vancouver either."
"And where are you from?"
"Edmonton. I left as soon as possible. There's absolutely nothing to do in Edmonton.When did you last have this trimmed? It's so flat!"
Meanwhile, my sister had tears running down her face after Maryam took off the edges of one eyebrow with her magic threads.
"You know about eyebrow threading?" she asked, as I watched with interest.
"Yes, I thread my eyebrows."
"You? Thread your own eyebrows?" She squinted at me. "You've done a nice job. How did you learn to do that?"
"On the Internet. You can learn to do anything on the Internet."
A call came in for her on her cell. "Phew!" my sister said. "Do you think anyone would notice if I just didn't get the other one done?"
"Just do it. It only hurts for a minute."
"You have to suffer to be beautiful," Chau said. He finished cutting me and blew me out with a round brush and a ton of volumiser.
"Yikes. That's very eighties."
"Oh, but the eighties are in!"
"I like leggings, but I don't think I can do the skinny jeans." He attacked me with the flatiron.
"You like it out or in?"
"Oh, flipped out and kind of chunky." He did, and then it was my turn for product. Hairspray, hairspray... Maryam came back, finished off my sister's other eyebrow, and powdered away the redness. Chau and Maryam both took off for a minute.
"I hate my haircut!" my sister whispered.
"It looks nice," I whispered back.
The cost was stunning. I thought my usual haircuts weren't cheap... "I should have looked up the prices on the Internet," my sister said.
"It's a holiday."
We left, and walked out into brilliant Vancouver sun.
"Well, you certainly look like a movie star now," my sister said.
"Yes, till I sleep on it," I said. "Do I really look as old as that?"
"That was terrible lighting. Do you think anyone will notice my eyebrows?"
"No. They look like your eyebrows only better. She did a nice job."
"Well what's the point then?"
New hair would go really good with new boots.
Just sayin'...
Posted by: Paul | 10/14/2006 at 06:59 PM
[this is good] It is simply excellent idea
Posted by: Randolf Goldsmith | 05/17/2010 at 05:11 PM