I haven’t had my hair done professionally in about 3 years. I’ve cut it myself a few times which I learned was a big mistake. I’ve sprouted some gray and in between trying to embrace aging, frugality, and traveling, I haven’t had my hair properly done.
But, dammit, it’s fucking time.
My hair is long and unruly, always in a bun.
I’m tweezing gray hairs, which is no different of an attitude than coloring them I now realize. I mean, if I want to embrace them, then let them be. The fact that I’m tweezing them means I don’t want them, and I’m not ready to get intimate with aging.
I started dreaming about getting my hair done.
As I walked around town, I noted salons and contemplated options.
I started getting more excited about the idea. There’s the whole la bella figura thing in Italy – first impressions being molto importante (very important). I find myself wearing makeup way more often here, and I’m rethinking my style and clothes. I bought pants that actually fit the other day – as in, you can see my butt in them because they’re not baggy or have an elastic waistband.
It made sense to do something about my hair.
Which salon do I go to?
Referrals are the answer when it comes to hair salons. Naturally, I asked our rock star law team (ICA) in Rovigo for a salon recommendation. They confidently answered, Jean Louis David.
It was time to get a proper style. I’m in Italy after all. They know a thing or two about that stuff.
Knowing they didn’t take appointments, I ventured over there today. They didn’t speak English, but with Google translate and my flexibility on what they did to my hair (nothing lasts forever, right?), I was comfortable that I was in good hands.
After chatting about options and me nodding my head like I understood most of what they said when I really didn’t, we got started.
But first, a unique salon experience.
They went to the front desk and wrote a quote for me on the price I’d have to pay. I agreed and we proceeded. I wonder if that’s common in Italy.
The lady, who discussed what we’d do with my hair, went to work on another client. Then, the cool-looking Italian hairdresser-dude, complete with tattoos, bracelets, and stylish black clothes, came over to cut my mop. Now, I’ve had my hair super long for a super long time. I like change so I was pretty excited about getting it cut. I figured if he was overeager with his scissors it wouldn’t really matter – I’d like whatever he did.
He cut a few inches and then asked, “Bene?” To which I replied, “Bene!” Though, I secretly wondered (shocked) if he had cut it enough. I needn’t have worried though. That first cutting was to get off some initial length.
Now, it was time to get more aggressive with his scissors.
By the time he was done, it was shorter, but I was hopeful. The way he flipped his scissors around in his hand time and again – like he was Tom Cruise tending bar in Cocktail, I knew he’d been doing this a while. I was totally in good hands.
Then, he colored it, and, wow, he really rubbed that color into my hair. He didn’t just apply it with a brush and walk away. No, he spent a solid few minutes really working it into my hair. I just closed my eyes feeling so much calm and happiness. I was really enjoying myself.
For the color I chose, we decided a color as natural to mine as possible. My goal was only to cover the gray hairs – no major changes beyond that.
They offered me an espresso, of course. It didn’t matter that it was after 3pm. I accepted, of course.
I enjoyed it while practicing my Italian flashcards.
Then, another gal shampooed and blow-dried my hair, giving me a most amazing scalp massage in the process. I was in heaven.
Finally, I was done, and I loved it. I walked out of there feeling like a new woman.
Next time I might go blonde. :)