Dear Greg May,
It seems I have just become an ugly statistic; an exempla to all, living proof that yes, it really IS a bad idea to get your hair cut/coloured on the day of an important occasion.
It is a big day for me: I am convocating from my Master’s degree in English from the University of Toronto tonight. My mother and my boyfriend are going to be in the audience, looking at me up on stage getting my diploma, and thanks to the voluminous black gown and hood, the only part of my body that will be visible is my head. Which, up until a few hours ago, would have included my hair.
Now, I am sitting here at my desk at work, valiantly holding back hysterical sobs.
I entered your salon with hair at noon today. Now, I have almost none.
I went to your establishment on my lunch hour, having read some really impressive reviews online. Given the short notice, I couldn’t get you yourself, so I took the first available appointment. I mean, it is called ‘Hair Architects’ in the plural, right? Not ‘One Architect and a Bunch of Ex-Office Workers’. I thought seeing the first available stylist would be okay, since in principle a salon is only as good as its weakest link. Which, it would appear, is the link that I got. Her name was April.
I think my first clue that April was maybe a bad gamble was that she was standing blankly behind the door, doing nothing, waiting for me to arrive. Usually if I go to a salon, there’s a hustle and a bustle, the stylist is finishing up with their last client, doing the crowning touches, and I’m lucky to be seen within 15 minutes. When she got me in the chair, she asked all the usual questions about what I wanted, how I was doing, what this was for, etc. But she didn’t seem to be *absorbing* much.
I said I wanted to get rid of the unfortunate mullet developing at the rear of my head, and make it short around the back, but keep length on top, since my hair is very fine and needs volume to maintain body. April then asked me TWICE whether I had always lived in Toronto, in a sort of broken-Stepford-wife kind of way.
“Have you always lived in Toronto?”
“No, I grew up in Oakville. I went to high school there, came here for university and stayed.”
“Oh, cool.”
(5 minutes pass)
“So, have you always lived in Toronto?”
“Uhhh… no. No, I lived in Oakville. When I was younger. In high school.”
“Oh, cool.”
I asked her how she had come to be at the salon. She replied, “Oh, you know, I had a friend working with Greg at Glo, his old salon? I went to business school, and was working in an office and hating it, so she told him about me wanting to change jobs because he needed a receptionist, and here I am! Life’s funny like that, I guess.” EXCUSE ME? BUSINESS SCHOOL? RECEPTIONIST? As an office worker myself, I am fairly confident that it is not a good plan for me to waltz into Fiorio and be like, “Hey, this government thing’s not really working out for me… can you lend me some shears and a comb?”
She threw some comforting terminology around like “feathering” and “layers” while I was contemplating how best to bolt from the chair without impaling myself on her scissors – but it was too late. She had already engaged in the business of razing my hair to the scalp.
For real, you can now actually see parts of my scalp through my hair, on the top and on the sides.
Now, I am comfortable with short hair. I have had pixie cuts in the past. I rarely, rarely freak out or lose my shit about my hair, because it is just not that important. But goddamn it, she has managed to make me look like a dude. A guy. An hombre. In short, by virtue of crafting my head into a spiky-topped, buzz-cut style, which I think is now shorter than my boyfriend’s, she has negated my curvaceous boobies, full lips, rosy cheeks and delicate jawline, and transfigured me into a butch trucker-style, hockey-playing MAN.
Her solution at the end? “Oh, if you don’t really like it, wear it for a few days to see if it grows on you, then come back and talk to Greg about a touch-up.” How in the seven wonders of the world can you ‘touch-up’ hair that no longer exists? I didn’t want to ruin April’s day, so I left without crying and without telling her how upset I was. As the owner, I felt I should communicate to you directly that there is at least one customer who has left your door in sadness and, once I had reached Cumberland street, tears.
I am severely displeased with the whole situation, and am dreading my time on stage tonight. Another person might not have written this – it can be a difficult thing, confronting a stylist with your dissatisfaction when you’re feeling ugly and emotionally vulnerable – but I felt it was my responsibility to let you know that this important and happy day has been cast into shadow by my awful haircut.
With great sadness,
Pipes
Oh, poor thing! Did you tell her that you weren’t happy? I hope that you will be telegraphing your displeasure to “Greg”, as well.
Call “Greg”, with tears if need be, and tell him to pay for a wig. Then get to help you find something funky.
Alternately, demand that you be allowed to give a reciprocating haircut to the stylist.
Oh honey. *hug*
And people wonder why I’m afraid of going to get my hair cut.
My deepest sympathy. Getting a bad haircut saddens/humiliates me and it doesnt even take that long for my hair to grow out again.
After getting a cut from a sincerely nice insane women who made my head look exactly like a mushroom, causing me to shave my head entirely, I now find one single stylist I like and hang on to them until they leave the state. Whereupon I have to find another one, which is scary.
I hope you actually send this to Greg.
-caellum
OH FUCK!! OMG, I so so so feel for you. Do you remember when I got the LadyMullet a couple of days before the first date I had with C? Remember the 6 months of GROWING IT OUT OH THE HORROR. That is why, to this day, I refuse to let anyone near my head if they even so much as MENTION layers.
All that being said, you have to get back there and get your money back. YOu have to go and see the actual Greg and CRY. I mean, I should have stomped back into Salon Solis and thrown a hissy fit, but instead I decided never to go back there again, evar, and to this day Ernesto wonders what the hell happened to me.
Get in there, rant, get it fixed or get your money back.
are you coming by afterwards to show me the horror of your hair and drink, or will you JVL and Mum go drown your sorrows at a proper pub?
Shitty shitty shitty. A really bad haircut is just so traumatizing — I mean, your hair’s kind of ever-present and hard to do anything about if it’s cut wrong. ABSOLUTELY those bastards should give you your money back. Then maybe someone ELSEWHERE can shape it into something acceptable that will grow out properly.
In all seriousness, if you’re really miserable about how you’re going to look for the convocation, you could totally invest in a wig for the occasion. I’ve known a couple people who wore them just to switch hairstyles for a day. If only I knew where they got them! You can buy wigs for all the money in the world but I assume starving artists have better sources.
Also: I’ve had the haircut you’re describing, but I gave it to MYSELF. WTF, ex-receptionist girf?
Yes, he does, and he always asks about you when I go see him.
Dude, I’ve had that experience, right down to the guy cut look. It’s over 12 years later & still part of the reason I have long hair. ::pet::pet::
Let them know. Let them know a bunch. you at the least should get your money back.
and doesn’t Chrissy own a couple of wigs? Maybe not the pink one, though. it’d possibly clash with your robes. Good luck tonight, hon.
Oh, blar!
I hadn’t read your post when we spoke today. I didn’t realize what a seriously poor job they’d done. Dude, I’m sorry to hear it.
That said, I remember seeing you at our last Fireball and commenting that, every time I saw you, over the course of YEARS, you just kept getting hotter and hotter. That trajectory has continued since then, and I doubt this haircut can do much to derail your progress towards becoming the hottest-woman-alive-to-whom-I-am-not-married.
I’ve also seen you look pretty awesome with short, spiky hair. With a restyling and/or a couple of weeks’ growth, I have every confidence that you’ll look awesome.
Bottom line: the agony of the bad haircut will pass, but your extreme hotness will endure.
OH dude, dude, that sucks!!!!
I hope you rock your convocation tonight (congrats, btw!), and tomorrow, march back into the salon and raise some hell.
Pink would have gone beautifully with the M.A. outfit, since it’s black robes with a black and cerise hood. I’ve been digging the commencement-wear ever since high school, but I have to say that so far, the hot-pink hood has been my favorite.
Maybe next time I will go for the wig, but then it would have to be cherry red, to match the Ph.D. hood.
I love him, I truly do, but Saavi ruined my entire experience there. It took me SIX MONTHS to grow my hair out. And let’s not comment about the horrific experience I had when I went there to get my hair styled before my head shots in June. *shudders*
Ernesto is awesome, but I can’t afford him. Le sigh.
Oh, it was sent, indeed it was. We’ll see if I get a reply from hairbygreg @ yahoo.ca by tomorrow morning. If not…
You can well imagine the length and breadth of Toronto beauty salon/spa review websites where this complaint might be broadcast. It’s not just going to be the short-list of toronto.com, eye.net and nowtoronto.com
Oh no. It will be like a virus, a pandemic, spreading through what Chrissy fondly refers to as the Interweb at the speed of gossip. I’ll besmirch his good name on Flare.com, where.ca/toronto, weddingtales.ca, sweetspot.ca/toronto… the list is lengthy. Unlike my hair.
Never mess with the tresses of a woman with magnificent web-fu.
Wretched hair may come and go, but intrinsic attractiveness abideth forever.
In view of damage control, tis the season of fun hats. If you’re depressed, walk on the north side of College between Bathurst and Euclid and look for the hatshop. (It’s 100% certainly between Spaidna and Grace, because I used to walk past it every day to school. I’m pretty sure it’s a bit west of Bathurst but it might also be east.)
It would be particularly just if you could sqeeze your haircut money back out of that wrteched salon and use it to buy some sort of fabulous headgear.
every girl needs a goal… 😉