Choosing a new hairdresser in a new town can be a daunting task. But this time I’m feeling fairly confident. This place comes highly recommended. I enter the dimly lit ground floor where a panda-eyed teenager sits, ideally filing her nails. With a grunt and a yawn she gestures towards a staircase. Upstairs I find two girls singing along to Heart FM (Beyonce: "Single Ladies"), as they sweep up clouds of bleached and black hair. The shorter girl smiles and points towards the corner chair, so I take my own coat off and hang it on a cluttered stand and sit down, wishing my hands were not quite so clammy.
Hairdresser: Highlights today is it?
Anna: Um, no. I’d just like a simple cut... perhaps a couple of inches off.
Hairdresser: Right (* she twiddles her comb idly through Anna’s hair) Over to the sink then.
*hairdresser vigorously washes Anna’s hair, taking little care not to let dribbles of water slide down the back of the neck. She then returns Anna to the chair and gets to work on the cut.
Hairdresser: Doesn’t sound like you’re from round here.
Anna: No. I’ve actually just moved here to be with my boyfriend.
Hairdresser: ooooh! Having a baby soon then?
Anna: Umm... no. Not just yet.
Hairdresser: How old are you?
Anna: Ummm... I’m twenty-nine.
Hairdresser: Twenty-nine??? You better start soon. I’m twenty and we are already trying, my boyfriend and me. You’ll have to have them soon or they’ll come out deformed.
Anna: Oh. (*closes her eyes and counts to ten, nervously plays with her fingers)
Hairdresser: You know, I’ve heard some women over forty try and have a baby. Forty! It’s disgusting.
Anna: (* clears throat)
Hairdresser: Mind you. You don’t look twenty-nine ... so your kids will probably be ok. Not strange, like. I wouldn’t waste no time though... to make sure.
