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I went for a (long overdue) haircut today. I must have cut a somewhat folorn figure, wondering in wearing a
large, unshapely raincoat covered in snow with three words of japanese scribbled onto my hand, but the people
there were very nice to me, in a typically Japanese lovely-but-slightly-surreal sort of way. After establishing
that it was OK for me to have a haircut now, I sat down in the chair and attempted to explain what I wanted done -
I think my description went something like this: "Er, ah, this form, this shape, I like, but maybe, please tidy this form? Length is ok, but these here (pointing to nasty straggly bits on the back of my neck), a little forbidden, so please cut" Anyway, he seemed to quickly grasp that universal hairdresser's understanding of I-can-only-cut-about-this-much-off -but-otherwise-it's-up-to-me, which I secretly depend on, and with this comfortably established I was ushered over to the sink to have my hair washed. This was conducted with the usual mumification in very small towels that is found in hairdressers the world over, but with the curious addition of a small tissue over my face, placed with a kindly utteration of shitsurei shimasu, which is used in place of 'excuse me' or 'don't mind me while I...' etc. Its literal translation is in fact "I'm being rude", which occasionally feels more appropriate. Hairwashing complete, I was treated to a vigorous impromptu head, neck and shoulder massage, and then the haircut proper began. We managed to chat a little - he was from Mitsuke, liked skiiing and didn't have much holiday time over the winter, but other than that I prattled on a little about what I did and so on. At several junctures in the proceedings I was handed an enourmous hand mirror to admire myself in, and after it was all done, my hair was washed again, complete with face tissue, and then dried, and then styled. Now, the styling stage for me has always taken a perfectly nice haircut that just needs a bit of scruffing around in the mirror by me to a freakish horror that needs immediate shampooing, but this one reached new limits. My hair was waxed into a slightly slimy-looking side parting, with the resulting fringe supposedly artfully arranged in little points across my forehead. Having got home and played with it a bit, the cut is pretty good - always takes me a while to adjust, so overall I'm pretty pleased. Anyway, I paid, and was presented with some form of loyalty card thing, the business card of the chap that cut my hair, and some bread, clutching all of which I thanked and bowed my way back out into the snow. |