I decided on a whim yesterday to get my hair trimmed. I had needed one for a while, and I didn't want to wait until the weekend. And one of the advantages of working downtown Toronto is that I'm close to some swanky salons.
So, I called one up, managed to get an appointment over the lunch hour, and off I went.
I met the stylist, sat in the chair and told her what I wanted. Trim up the layers. Take an inch off. You know, standard stuff. My hair wasn't in horrible shape, so I didn't want much different. The stylist looked at my hair, surveyed the sides and the back, and then said:
"Do you mind if I clean up the layers so that it doesn't look like you have so much of a mullet?"
Ummm... ok.
How do you respond to that?? I wasn't aware that I was walking around town, sporting a mullet for the past few months... but that's certainly what this young woman thought.
Anyway, she gave me a good cut, but I doubt I'll be going back there. If I'm going to pay good money to get my hair done, I'd like it to be insult-free, thank you very much.
PS: I so don't have a mullet. I would NOT allow myself to be seen with a short-long. I'm not all business in the front and party in the back. Nope. No achey-breaky-big-mistakey hairdo for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment