Spanish Secrets: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
In Galicia hairdressing is an additional service provided by some retailers. "Can you imagine?'' Craig Briggs asks. "Six oranges, a loaf of bread, oh and a cut and blow dry while I'm here please.''
Having surpassed the age of 40 with a reasonable amount of hair still attached to my head, it was quite a major decision once we'd moved to this beautiful but rural part of Spain to whom I should entrust one of my most prized possessions.
Most of the men here use what we would consider a traditional barber, and having seen some of the results walking the streets it appeared their most useful implement was a pair of electric shears.
In some cases this occupation is simply an additional service provided by some retailers.
Can you imagine?
"Six oranges, a loaf of bread, oh and a cut and blow dry while I'm here please.’’
I don't think so!
I hadn't spent the past forty years nurturing my blond locks to have some greengrocer, or worse a butcher, attack them with a pair of shears.
After asking as many people as possible to recommend a good hairdresser, most of which were women, I took the plunge and opted for, "Peluqueria 2000" (Hairdresser 2000).
Part of my thinking was that the 2000 part of the title might have something to do with the millennium, which would make the place reasonably modern, and first impressions were very good. The place was very busy and there were at least four members of staff.
This is a modern unisex hair salon, although having said that, in the last two years I haven't seen one other man in the place, with the exception of a very slick and smartly dressed Vidal Sassoon salesman who certainly met his match with the shop’s owner. Having entered like a whirlwind, full of charm and bravado, he left ten minutes later without an order but with his tail between his legs.
With her customers though the owner and main stylist is a lovely woman and is always pleased to see me. She starts by asking how I would like it cutting, gesturing a gap of about an inch with her thumb and finger.
This is always the most worrying time as I'm still not sure whether she is intending to cut off a small amount, or leave my scalp with only a small amount on. My response is always the same and she always cuts it exactly to the right length.
She has even started entering into conversation which I am convinced is the single most important skill of any hairdresser anywhere in the world, their mouths opening in unison with their scissors.
As you might imagine a naturally blond haired Northern European male is quite a rarity in these parts and particularly in her establishment and occasionally the focus of some harmless leg pulling, although I'm sure the staff still don't think I understand them.
That's something I'm keeping quiet about. Surprising what you can overhear in a hairdressers.
