Good morning! I have to make this quick, because this morning I have to go run some errands, and by “run some errands” I of course mean “buy a hat.”
My inability to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my hair as regards either the cut or the color is well-documented—specifically, here, here, and here. Oh, wait. Also here.
My name is Mir, and I have hair problems. Oh, the humanity!
So, um, true to form, it took me until a week before my trip up to NYC to remember that, oh yes, I HAVE MEDUSA HAIR. And although I wasn’t thrilled with the results of the last time I had my hair done, it was serviceable enough, I supposed, and the price was right, so I called that same woman again.
She, of course, was completely unable to fit me in. Because only a moron waits until the last minute to schedule a cut and color.
She recommended I go to a friend of hers, though, because this woman is “great” and she refers all of her clients to this other girl when she can’t take them. I’ll love her! It’ll be great! She’ll call her up and give her my color formulation so that I can get a perfect match to last time! (For the record, the color I got last time was pretty much the best gray coverage I’ve ever had. So although I was planning to ask for a bit less red in the highlights, I was feeling very jazzed about getting the same color again. File that away for future reference.)
I called the pinch-hitter and was able to make an appointment immediately. An appointment for yesterday at 11, in fact.
Said hairdresser—let’s call her Foils McGee—works in one of the seventy billion salons downtown. And here is the thing about going downtown in a college town: It makes you feel VERY OLD. I already knew I was going to feel completely unhip, venturing into a place where flip flops are de rigueur. Here’s the other thing: It is impossible to park downtown. There is, however, a parking deck conveniently located, so I went to park in the deck.
The deck was full.
I eventually found street parking, but all of the street parking is for an hour only, and you’re not allowed to put more money in the meter, either—the parking police chalk your tires so they’ll know if you’ve just run back with another quarter. So I parked knowing full well that I was going to get a parking ticket. I AM A REBEL.
I presented myself for my 11:00 appointment full of hope. Had she spoken to the other woman? Yes, she had. Did she have my color formulation? Well, yes, but was that exactly what I wanted, again?
Me: Well, I really loved the base color. That was perfect. The highlights were VERY red, though, and I think I’d like to tone that down a bit.
Foils: So… would you like something more caramel-y for the highlights?
Me: Caramel-y?
Foils: Yeah, sort of a lighter brown that the rest.
Me: Sure…?
Foils: Because, like, here’s the thing… the base color she did before was WAY dark, nearly black—
Me: But my natural color IS nearly black—
Foils: —right, but then you get really noticeable roots with the gray, right? So generally when I have a client who’s graying I recommend they go just a little lighter, to help the blend as the roots grow in. So let’s lighten the base color just a little, to a not-quite-so-dark brown, and then do the caramel highlights. That sound good?
Me: Um, I guess. The auburn she did before was nice, but it faded kind of weird.
Foils: Oh, yeah, red is really hard to maintain. You don’t want any red.
Me: Great, yeah, I really do want to get away from red.
Foils: We’ll do caramel. It’ll be great.
Foils went away to mix up the hair color. After a few minutes she called for another stylist to come help her with something. I suspect “something” was “smoking a crack pipe” because they were gone for about ten minutes, as I sat there in the chair twiddling my thumbs and the other client—who was mid-haircut—rustled around in her purse.
Eventually Foils returned and commenced coating my roots with color. I noticed right away that she was meticulous, making tiny parts and thoroughly saturating every section with concentration and precision. So that took… however long it took.
She finished the all-over color and snapped her gloves off. “Okay,” she said, “Let me go mix up the lightener for the highlights. Be right back!”
I took out my iPhone and checked my mail.
She came back and started putting the foils in.
Now, you have to understand that I’ve only had my hair professionally colored a few times. And I am, as we’ve established, something of a moron about my hair. So I figure that someone who has a certificate on her wall and a snazzy apron knows better than I do about how to make my hair pretty. THIS IS A DANGEROUS POSITION TO ADOPT.
By the time that I realized that Foils McGee was intent on covering my entire head with foils, it was really too late to say anything.
She foiled. And foiled. And foiled some more. The entire top of my head was covered with foils and THEN she started in on the sides. I think I had eighty foils in my hair by the time she finally stopped, and do you know how long it takes to put that many foils in?? By the time she finished, the original hair color had been sitting on my hair for AN HOUR AND A HALF.
Foils patted my shoulder and went outside for a cigarette.
She came back in and peeked inside a foil, then disappeared into the back.
Eventually she came over and peeked inside three different foils, then took me over to the sink and started taking them out.
“Well!” she said, once they were all out, “I think instead of a second process we’ll just work the existing color into the lightened bits, and then it’ll be the same tonality. It’ll look great!”
“Oooooooookay,” I said, though she may not have been able to hear me over the grumbling of my stomach. I had just remembered that (as usual) I didn’t eat any breakfast, but here I was at 1:45 realizing I was never going to get any lunch, either.
She had me lean back into the sink, and she massaged a bit of water into my hair, mushed it all around for a while, and then put a shower cap over the whole mess and took me back to her chair to sit some more.
The other stylist ordered lunch from somewhere. I tried not to stare at her while she ate her sandwich. I played with my iPhone some more and eventually Foils came back and checked me. And smushed my hair around some more. Then she took me back to the sink for some more water and some more smushing, and she left me to sit THERE for a while, and then eventually she came and washed my hair out and led me back to her chair with a towel on my head.
“Well! It would’ve been nice if we could’ve saved a step, there, but I think you’re probably going to want it a little darker! Haha!” she said, while removing the towel from my head to reveal golden blonde tufts sticking out every which way.
After I DIED I got back up and said “Yes, darker would be good.”
So then she went and mixed up ANOTHER color and painted my entire head AGAIN. She was trying to hurry, now, and slopped color on my face at least three times. “That’s okay!” she chirped, “I have stuff that’ll take that RIGHT OFF!” Finally she put a shower cap over my hair and stuck me under an old lady drier, and I began to wonder if I was ever going to escape, and what the hell my hair would look like if/when I did.
Foils went out for another cigarette and then came back in to wash out the second (third? twentieth? I was delirious by this point) round of color, and then it was back to her chair again. She used her “magic color remover” on my face while I stared at my hair. Which was OVERWHELMINGLY RED. It was a good thing I was staring at that, though, because it meant that I didn’t notice until later that her “magic color remover” didn’t do anything, and my face and ears were still covered with smudges of color.
Foils: So do you love the color?
Me: Ummmmm… well… it’s kinda… red.
Foils: It’s caramel!
Me: It looks red to me.
Foils: Nah, it’s caramel. You’re gonna love it.
Me: …
Foils: It’ll mellow a little after you wash it a couple of times!
Me: …
Foils: Well! Let’s get you cut!
I am growing my hair out (again) (shut up), so we had a brief discussion about how to shape it when it’s essentially between styles, and she commenced cutting.
I listened to the *snip* *snip* of the scissors and grew drowsy as I dreamed of a large sandwich.
When I felt an odd, tearing sensation at the back of the my head I snapped back to full consciousness.
“What’s THAT?” I asked.
“Oh, this?” She held up a weird-looking device. “This is a carving comb! It’s a kind of razor. I’m just thinning the hair out back here.” I must’ve looked apprehensive. “Don’t worry, I took a class in how to use it!”
Ooooooooookay. I was too tired and hungry to care.
She finished the cut and offered to style and dry it for me. I pointed out that I had now been at the salon for close to FOUR HOURS and that I really needed to leave to pick up my kids. She gave me my bill, which was not outrageous (hell, if you divide it out by the hour it was outright cheap) but still a three-figure total, and I paid it and tipped her exactly twenty percent because I am incapable of tipping less than that, even if you drag a weird razor comb through the back of my hair which you’ve just dyed red but insist is caramel. And then I left.
I walked back to my car at a brisk clip and was unsurprised to find a ticket on my windshield. Fine.
On my way to pick up the kids I drove through the first fast food establishment I encountered and ordered the first sandwich on the value menu, which was some sort of chicken thing, I think, except I’m not really sure because I crammed it into my mouth immediately and swallowed it whole.
I walked into my friend’s house where the children were playing happily and released a diatribe about my hair experience while shoving as much hair as possible into a barrette and trying not to cry.
My friend assured me it looked fine.
When Monkey was finally enticed away from his friends he said “It’s a very pretty color, Mama.”
When Chickadee got into the car to go home she said, “Well, I’d like it if it was longer.”
When Otto got home, he positioned me near the window and walked around, examining it, and said, “I don’t think it’s as red as you think. It’s fine. I like it!”
This morning I’ve decided that despite my traumatic experience the cut is… fine. Nothing thrilling, but I am not sporting a large bald spot in the back, as originally feared. The color may not be as bad as I think but IT’S NOT GOOD. And the fact that I nearly starved to death, spent all that money, AND got a parking ticket to be this unhappy with the results causes me to die a little on the inside.
But I’m going to wash it a few times before next week and WHO KNOWS.
Now, three guesses and the first two don’t count as to whether or not I’ll be visiting Foils McGee again. Hmph.
Between my own trials and tribulations with my hair and this story, I think I will just shave my head. Join me, Mir? Think how much easier life would be. We’ll be like….men!
Okay, I totally HAVE to know who Foils is, because if she’s not MY girl, and I suspect she’s not, then you MUST go to my girl. I really love her and while I’ve never had her do color, I suspect she would be good at it.
Oh, and FOUR HOURS!!??! Seriously? Egads.
I’m bad about always tipping twenty percent as well. But I’ll also go toe to toe on the quality of a job I’m paying for. Unless starving. But it sounds like she did a decent job. Your kids didn’t freak.
You have to check out Anita Renfroe on hair: http://www.anitarenfroe.com/video_clips.htm It will probably make you laugh. Unfortunately, I’ve been where you’re at. I have now found someone absolutely fabulous in my town to do my hair…unfortunately, I can’t afford her. Good luck.
Will you be sharing a picture of Foils McGee’s work? Also, you should write a book. This was hilarious, and almost every woman can relate, because EVERYONE has had at least one bad salon experience.
pictures? You really should ask your readers…we are always honest with you, right? And we’ll make you feel better about it, no matter what…don’t we usually?
Um, 4 hours?!?!?! I would have been LOSING. MY. MIND.
Okay. Two hair stories that might make you feel better. I am still living. All three of these involve my friend who went to cosmetology school and then “did hair” for a few years. He is now a PhD — and not of hair.
1) While coloring my hair, he cheerfully suggested that we try these new colors that had just come in. Don’t ever let anyone mix fruity-sounding names on your head. I got banana and papaya. Let me tell you, it was 100 percent banana when he was done. He washed my hair about 20 times in a row with Prell, which is apparently the stylist’s secret weapon against bad color, FYI.
2) This one really wasn’t his fault, just mortally embarrassing. He was working in a really chic, high-end salon. He was going to color my hair, and his friend was cutting it. So the friend starts running his hands through my hair, asking me what I want, when he gets this terrified look on his face. He calls over about three other people, and pretty soon, I have four people examining my head, questioning whether or not I have LICE! Lice, people! In the end, they determined it was build-up from my poor choice of supermarket hairspray. Do not let this happen to you!
P. S. While giving me a spiral perm (shut up! it was the 80s) in cosmetology school, he took five hours and I got two, yes two, parking tickets!
Which is why my hair is way waaaaaay longer than it should be – like below the bra strap long. BUT that means I can waffle for a while about going and getting it cut- cut, or decide to trim it myself (“just this once”) and ignore it for another six weeks (or… quite a bit longer….). Of course my trimming involves rather a lot of accessories including a steel ruler (what??).
This has to be one of your best post titles ever. It caused me to laugh out loud. Then I read it again. And again. In fact, I believe you could write a successful children’s book series based on that there title. I’d buy it–full price even!
I was so entranced reading this to find out how it turned out, I was late driving my kids to school! It’s okay, though. You’re forgiven. And your hair looks pretty.
Reading this was a serious flashback for me. Right up to, and including, the 4 hours and the parking ticket! (50 bucks!!!) My story has an added twit. My gal (let’s call her Foils McBurn) screwed something up with the chemicals and BURNED the HELL out of my scalp and all of the spots she splashed on my face, neck, ears, etc. It was extremely painful, not to mention that I looked like I had some sort of skin disease.
Hey, your family approves and you walked out without any painful lesions. Double bonus!
Oh, did I forget to mention that I left with my hair so dark I looked like Morticia Adams?
Oh, you poor thing. I used to be all “Blah, blah, it’s just hair, right?” until I had a similar experience that turned out DECIDEDLY for the worse in the end. My “dark chocolate brown” turned out “streaky, blotchy black with reddish parts.” When I expressed uncertainty about the end result, she told me, “oh, we can back that right out”, and then it went through an absolutely fried “streaky, blotchy red with blonde-ish streaks” and ultimately to just straight-up fried. And then it all fell out. (Apparently a couple of hours of concentrated bleach will just dissolve your hair.) Oh, my beautiful hair, that had never done anything but faithfully what I wanted it to. Turns out my stylist was going through some personal issues and shortly thereafter, retired from the hair industry completely. For someone with a formerly laid-back approach to experimentation with hair style and color, it was a surprisingly traumatic experience. That was almost ten years ago, and my poor hair still hasn’t forgiven me. I wonder if my ex-stylist moved to Georgia and resurfaced as Foils McGee.
I think your normal color guru should fix Foils McGee’s (sounds like you’ve been reading Richard Scarry, by the way) for free since she recommended her. And what was she thinking?
So sorry about this experience. Is it too much to ask for a picture?
Oh, poor Mir. I can sympathize, nay even empathize, with your situation. I have had everything possible done to my hair, from cutting it boy-short (literally, it was shorter than my husband’s hair, and he ain’t no hippy) to bobs, to very angular modern cuts, to poufy layers, and everything in between. The worst incident was when I started getting some streaks (just a couple, to look a little “modern” – hey, I was in my 20’s). I loved them, but then I went to a different stylist to refresh them, and they got the color TOTALLY wrong, so I had a couple of whiter-than-blond streaks in my hair for some time. Oh yeh, and there was the time I went to get my hair colored, mostly to cover the grey, and the colorist didn’t believe me when I told her my actual hair color (“oh, your hair couldn’t be THAT dark!” – no, cause I’ve only lived with it for 25 years so it’s not like I’d KNOW what color it is). So it wound up way light, and the roots coming in were VERY OBVIOUS.
Oh yeh, and the time I wanted to remove the blue-black color I had been putting in my hair at home (Note: Don’t ever do this; the process to remove it will traumatize you), and the only way to really do it was to completely strip out the black, resulting in orange hair – which I had to live with for 2 weeks while my hair recovered.
Thank God I have coarse hair, so it can stand up to some abuse. And I treat it VERY well now, so I can get away with very long hair with a minimum of stress (the trick: no heat processing, lots of hair masks and leave-in conditioner, and lots of good moisturizing hair product).
Good luck Mir – just remember, hair grows fastest in Spring, so in a couple weeks you might be able to go back to your original girl and have her tone things down (peruse the fashion mags in the meantime, and find some pics of hair color you like so you can point to them and say, “Make my hair color look like hers”).
You know, they actually used one of those thinning comb things on me at my last cut since my hair is rather thick. Turning grey at a rapid rate, but still here. It was an odd experience, but I was proud of having thick hair when she explained why she was using it, so I just sat and endured it. She didn’t take four hours to give me a trim, though. I think that any guy forced to endure that would have walked out by the second cigarette break, even mid-cut.
Oh, and I forgot the most important thing I wanted to say (as vitally important as it was to share my stories of hair trauma). I think we would all wind up with what we wanted more often at the stylist’s if we were able to train ourselves to say, with conviction, “No, I don’t want that. I want this. Please don’t do that.”
I don’t know why it’s so hard to do – God knows I can’t do it to save my life, and so I wind up with hair that looks like a blind person cut it (seriously, you have to know what you’re doing when you cut curly hair, or it just looks like a weed wacker was used on it). So let’s all vow to stand by our guns when some 25-year old gum-chewing stylist says, “no, no, that’s caramel” when your eyes CLEARLY tell you it is red.
Power to the sisters! :)
I’m in on the shaved hair club – seriously. I have yet to learn how to speak the same language as hair stylists. “A little off the top” clearly means, “Cut as many tiny layers as you possibly can so that I look like Simon Le Bon from Duran Duran.”
I was hoping for a picture at the end!
I have been dying my own hair to cover the gray but keep thinking it is getting to be time to go to someone who knows what they are doing. After reading this, I may just continue doing my own.
I am growing out my hair, so I haven’t had a cut in a long time. I have the best hair girl ever and I am sad you don’t live closer so you could use her. She cuts my whole family and often erases some of us from her appointment book so we don’t have to all pay each time.
I’ll never forget coming home, looking in the mirror and chanting, “It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad.” And then my husband came home and asked if it was supposed to look purple! I called the stylist back, nearly in tears, and she fit me in first thing the next morning. She came in EARLY to fix me.
EEK !! I think I just made my decision – I’m just gonna dye the whole lot silver ( think Paula Deen ) and be DONE WITH IT !
My three guesses?
1. No.
2. No!
3. Oh HELL no!
No, no, see, this is why one mistake and I’m outta there. Why would I risk even bigger mistakes?
I dare you to walk into your main stylist’s salon with *that* look on your face. I bet she’ll fit you in.
I not-so-recently (nine months ago) relocated from my small-town hometown to Cincinnati and in the process have gone through three. yes, three hairstylists. The first one wanted to work with the flips I so desperately wanted to hide, and while her blow-dried out version of her cut looked FAB, my attempts to recreate it ended in a shorter-haired brunette version of Farrah Fawcett hair. Not my idea of a picnic.
The second stylist listened when I said I wanted a bob (at that time I was wearing my hair short) that would work with my semi-curly/wavy hair. I wanted it to work with my natural hair type, which is fine, and texture, which is wavy. She sold me a few styling products and sent me home with a style that took no less than thirty minutes each morning to get right while curly, but could be flat-ironed to look decent in ten. I wanted a ten-minute style, not thirty.
My current stylist is now fixing my last two stylist’s experiments wiht my hair that left me with all layers and no length, while I was wondering why as my hair was growing out (it’s now at my shoulders) it was getting progressively poofier. Oh, that’s right, it’s because my hair has NO WEIGHT to it. I found my current stylist by asking my best friend, who has FANTASTIC looking hair, where she got hers cut.
So, my suggestion: don’t call the old stylist back. Call the new stylist’s salon and tell them you are not pleased, you could even demand a refund if you are that unhappy with her work. It’s YOUR hair. Grab a random person on the street who has great looking hair and complement her. Then ask where she goes. Then dont’ have a heart attack at the price.
Oh, MIr, I’ve been there SO many times. I’ve never found someone who speaks the same language I do when it comes to hair (I refuse to think that is my problem–why would I know anything about proper hair terminology? The hairdressers need to learn to speak plain English and lose their fancy words.). So, I bounce from place to place seeking one, just one, person who will know that “a couple of dark blond highlights” means I do not want to walk out with Christina Aguilera’s hair.
This story sounds eerily similar to the one where my stylist decided some highlights from a previous trip were too reddish (my hair is blonde) and offered to do them again for FREE. Well, duh, free foils. What sane person would say no to that? Well, she kept checking and rechecking. Finally, after 4 shampoo’s and some toner, I was set free. I’d been there way too long and had a million errands to run so I didn’t really take much notice of the final result. I left, ran my errands and went home. As soon as I walked in the door, my youngest said, “Mommy, how come your hair is blue?” I had thought everyone was admiring my hair. Now I know they were just staring.
But… she took a class…?
And, as long as we’re sharing, during my last haircut the stylist (who was bald, himself–should have been a warning signal) STABBED ME IN THE NECK! It wasn’t the jugular, but painful nonetheless. He did apologize profusely whilst applying direct pressure. And I still paid (and tipped) him in the end, because I am spineless. (In my defense, the cut was good. The HAIR cut, not the flesh wound.)
So, I have to know who Foils is simply so I don’t make that mistake. Sadly I don’t have a girl though. I tend to let mine grow til it gets unwieldy then go to whomever I can get an appointment with. It’s no wonder I never seem to be happy with it.
God, FOUR HOURS?! you think they would have offered you a snack or something. At least the ticket wasn’t too expensive and speaking from experience you don’t really have to pay those until the total bill gets way high. Like $100. Yeah I know crazy but I used to work downtown.
Gawd, don’t you sometimes just wish you were a man? I don’t know of a single (straight) man that would sit in a stylist’s chair like that for longer than a half hour. They just go in and get buzzed, and boom! throw down a $20 and they’re out of there.
I can so well remember the weekend my Mother and I got bored and put a dye product on my naturally auburn hair to cover premature graying. My hair turned maroon!
I kept saying, “I can’t go to school like this tomorrow. The kids will laugh at me. Plus, I might get sent home!” This was funny because I was the teacher. I was definitely having one of those laughing, crying kind of afternoons with little time to fix it before I had to start home.
We called every beautician either of us knew (very small town…no hair stylists there…lol) to see what I could do immediately to get the punk maroon out of my hair. Every single person told me to go buy the lightest shade of blonde that I could find and put it on my hair. Despite my fear of having puke green hair, it actually worked! Who’d have thunk it?
Yeah, we’re going to need to see a picture of this new do.
As someone who gets their hair dyed on a regular basis: nail polish remover will take the color splotches off your skin. Just dab some remover onto a Qtip and rub on the colored spots.
I’m really sorry to hear about your hair horror. Finding a good stylist is a real bitch. I’d send you mine but she’s in New England and I’m too attached to send her to Georgia. But if you ever find yourself in a position where you are up here for the holidays and you have a spare hour or two and you want to get a good base cut and color, she’ll pack you off with her color combination for a stylist you trust down south.
I haven’t found a stylist here in VA yet. Yes, we’ve lived here almost 2 years. My husband cut my hair once and a year later my mom cut it. Pretty sad, huh?
Hey, my browser must be acting up, the picture didn’t come up.
While in college and the few years after I just went to where ever was handy (usually cheap strip-mall hair salons). I have straight, dark blondish hair. And it is all basically the same length – no bangs, no layers, nothing fancy. And I don’t want anything crazy done to it. Basically, my lesson is not to let a bald guy cut my hair. Because evidently while he may have gone to hair cutting school, he evidently has no experience cutting hair. That was the first time my hair ever made me cry. And then I went somewhere else and paid the stylist my mom used to use before she started insisting on charging $30 for a trim (and giving scalp massages) and yeah. Now I have a stylist I use and she’s good and no one else gets to cut my hair but I mostly just don’t care and generally don’t think about calling her until I really need a hair cut and then it’s at least 2-3 weeks before she can get me in.
I could feel the nasuea for you with each read line.
One time, I asked for a trim only to have the girl cut off over an inch and a half; after half of it was cut she asked if I liked it. Um, does it matter? You still have to cut the other half!
That? is why I now do my own hair.
Oh no, I’m going for a cut this afternoon! I hope it doesn’t turn out anything like your experience. I hope it grows out quickly or you just tire of worrying about it. So will you tell your “regular” stylist that she shouldn’t refer people to Foils anymore?
Oh Lord. I once let the mother of a friend cut/color my hair (she was a professional,in a salon and everything) and, hand to God, it came out looking like a purple mushroom. Short curly cap, with long wisps in the back, down my neck. My auburn highlights? Eggplant. Egg-plant! I went to my regular guy, tail between my legs and he laughed so hard he had to sit in the chair. This was about five years ago and he still asks if I want the purple mushroom again. If he wasn’t a freakin’ genius, I’d pop him with his blow dryer.
I’m with everyone who wants photographic evidence.
I’m with Megan. My hair just keeps growing and growing because I am afraid to find someone new and don’t like the person I’ve been using. What I want (what I really really want, thank you spice girls) is a hairdresser like on the makeover shows that play with your hair and decribe its texture and your face shape and talk to you about your activity level and desires for a pretty haircut then know instinctively how to make you look lovely. And I want it for $30. Is that so much to ask? To be honest, I would splurge if I knew I would get a nice cut out of it.
I think you may be onto a new website idea where people can recommend beauty professionals in their area to people who don’t want to have to find them via the trial and error method.
It is so hard to believe that in a place like GA it is so hard to fine a good stylist. Maybe you should take the drive over to New Orleans and I will set you up. I guarantee it won’t take 4 hours, but you are on your own about the price. And hey, you won’t have to worry about a parking ticket, just rich old bitties taking up 2 spots with their luxury Hummers.
I am sure it looks fine. I am sure you will look fine. And I am sure you will be the hit of the ball.
Oh, Mir, I feel for you. I’ve been in the same boat oh so many times. I stare at my husband’s shaved head with such envy most days – I think it would be SO nice to just slap some soap on your head, dry it off, and be done with it. *sigh*
This is why I color my hair at home and have used the same hairdresser for 20 years.
Your red hair and my too short bangs will get along perfectly next week.
All that and we don’t even get to see a picture? Not even from the back??!? pleeeeeease?
This is why I’m perfectly happy going gray. Um, I mean silver.
Oh Mir, you poor thing. I hate having my hair done, that is why I hardly ever go. I decided to take the color into my own hands and do it myself. Good luck and I hope the numerous washings help.
The part about going to a hair stylist that I really hate is the forced banter. I finally found someone who gives me good haircuts and I try to just soldier through the small talk. If anyone has any advice for avoiding the talk without seeming rude, I’d love to hear them. I wish I could just sit there and zone out.
I hate to say this, but I’m glad I’m not alone in the “only a moron” department. I never color my hair because 1) I’m cheap and 2) I don’t want to keep up with it. And don’t ask me what I’m doing with my hair. It’s getting longer is all I know… that and, as God as my witness, I’ll never do bangs again… willingly anyway.
I was told by 3 different people that I need to find someone that I like and to just stick with that person forever because they’ll understand whatever it is I’m wanting for my hair. Good – maybe someone can understand me and my hair some day. I have hope. But I’m pretty sure that I won’t find said person at Great Clips.
Hope that your hair becomes more than just “fine” with you over the week. Everyone’s going to be too bedazzled with your personality and wit to notice your hair anyway.
Where oh where is the photographic evidence of this disaster?
Pretty please?
Reading this I feel REALLY lucky. I’ve always had really good luck with stylists. Or maybe its just that my hair is kill-proof.
Like cockroaches.
I agree w/ the others, after all of that you have just GOT to show us a picture! I’m sure it looks great sweetie – change is always scary – but I do bet it looks great! :)
Ohhhhh Ottttttooooo, pic please?! ;)
“If anyone has any advice for avoiding the talk without seeming rude, I’d love to hear them. I wish I could just sit there and zone out.”
You look them in the eye as you’re walking to the chair and say, “I’m having a long week. I’d like to just zone out and not talk today. Thanks for understanding.” Easier said than done, but if you do it, you’ll thank yourself!
And I’m soooo glad I decided not to fork out for color during my bad haircut a couple of weeks ago. One thing I hate about moving is having to find a new hairdresser. sigh.
Please please please post a picture. Blank out your face if you want but let your peeps see how beautiful it really is.
I think all hairdressers secretly believe that they know how your hair should look, you don’t. So when you ask for a 1″ trim “just the ends”, they intentionally ignore you, throw a lot of jargon at you so they can later claim you “agreed to this”, and do whatever the hell they want.
And they truly also believe that once they are done with their stealth restyling, you will leap from the chair and run through the town praising their genius. But only after giving them a 100% tip and your undying (no pun intended) gratitude.
It has never happened in the history of hairdresser/client relations. It’s never gonna happen. But they still believe.
If they were 3, and this were Christmas, it would be kinda cute. As it is, it’s kinda evil.
This is why I stick with my long, naturally graying, unstyled, wavy hippie hair.
I think yesterday something was National Hairstylists Do Whatever The Hell They Want To Do Day. I had a similar experience at my salon yesterday. I told the guy that I just wanted a trim. I told him I was growing it out. I told him that I had really fine hair. I told him all these things and what I got was a guy who gave me layers, cut several inches off, and used thinning shears. I’m so not happy. I have NEVER had a worse haircut. This is officialy the first time I have CRIED over a haircut. It will take a lot of convincing to make me feel better about it.
What I”m trying to say is, I know how you feel. My sympathies.
You need lowlights, not highlights. Highlights involve lightening the hair which is just going to creat more red. If they dye it darker, which involves less damage and will get you closer to the color you want, then add lowlights to give the color dimension without stripping out more color you get less damage but a more natural healthy looking color. Most people with really dark hair will end up with a lot of auburn, particularly when you end up processing twice, once to get the all over color and again to highlight.
Mir, we need a picture! Pretty pretty please? :D
I know good people, but they’re on the other side of 316, plus a little bit of 85. But my sister had a person she loved. Me, I go to Great Clips, since I haven’t had a haircut I liked since 1988. No reason to pay the big bucks if it’s still going to be “meh”.
Photo please! Please please please please please!!!!!!
I’m starting to feel better about mine. The compliment from the bald guy did not help, but the ones from my friends and my mother did. So did the one from my current crush. I hope you’re feeling better about your hair soon.
Dark hair pulls red when lightened. It sounds like maybe she was just out of school? You easily got an appointment and she consulted with the other stylist, so….
I would try the lowlights if the ‘red’ starts to fade funky. Lowlights really aren’t damaging and tend to tone down an odd color just enough. Also, if you can get away with only washing your hair every other day, that would be good.
I used to have waist length hair in college (I cut it for a Locks of Love contest last year, so its short now). I went in for a trim (“You can take off up to an inch–I won’t notice.”) I guess the stylist FAILED math because my inch and her inch differed by five standard inches. Yep–half a foot gone. Then I cut it for locks of love. Great first haircut, but since then I have done the “Suburban Mother,” “Punk Rocker,” and “I Like Girls and Play to Stereotypes” hair styles. All of those would be great if I wasn’t a 24 year old happily married teacher.
Hair snob here: 1. Do not go to anyone who is both a cutter and a colorist. Great ones specialize in either. 2. I can’t imagine why she didn’t wash the color out your hair and dry it again before doing the highlights. 3. I bet it looks more awesome than you think. 4. If it doesn’t…well, you’re coming to NY. we’ll sneak away and get it fixed.
Also…HEY YOU HAVE AN IPHONE.
I have never heard of applying foils before washing out the base color! And also? Um, pictures?
I bet you look fabulous even if it wasn’t what you wanted.