Getting a haircut is a mysterious process synonymous with 'transformation'.
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The usual idea is you enter the salon feeling one way about yourself. Possibly not great. Then you exit feeling transformed.
Maybe about your hair-dresser, who despite many challenges has somehow managed to improve on perfection. Again.
Of course, that's not always the outcome. There are times where you wonder why you even bothered. And sometimes those times might feel like all the time.
Which is where the concept of transformation truly occurs. Between the ears as you try to convince yourself that what you got this time looks better than last.
Transformation can be a mysterious process, actually, fraught with self-delusion. And given the psychological torment, I now understand why haircuts cost so much. Hairdressers deal with a lot of baggage.
Anyhow, in the spirit of Spring and seasonal adjustment disorders, I'm up for a trim pretty soon. And I'm hoping that whoever cuts my hair has the Merlin touch.
That can often turn on where you get your hair done, by whom, and whether anyone says afterwards, "gee that looks good". And it doesn't count if it's grandma.
It can be hard getting a different outcome if you keep going to the same place you weren't happy with last time. Some call that the definition of insanity, and I was talking to a haircut veteran the other day who had some strategic ideas around the topic.
They suggested that you shouldn't go to a hair dresser who is younger than you, because they'll think you're old, and give you an old person's haircut. The cleverer thing to do, they said, was to go to a hair dresser who is older than you because they'll think you're young, and cut your hair accordingly. Hopefully not with a bowl.
It seemed to me this theory gets harder to apply the older you get but maybe it has merit. My theory is be cautious if the first thing your hair dresser asks is "do you want to see pics of my mate's broken arm?"
It was a pretty unorthodox opener but it took my mind off concerns my hair-dresser was not long out of juvie that day. He also asked "do you like rugba league", because he played, and I spent a lot of the haircut guessing if it was for the under 14s or 16s.
It hadn't been my intention to get a cut from the apprentice but we've all got to learn somehow. And I learnt next time my regular hairdresser is not available, leave.
It turns out he did have pics of his mate's broken arm - a pretty robust compound fracture. Which I eventually agreed to look at because I needed distraction from the Papenhuyzen going on upstairs.
To be fair, the chat was OK during the haircut, and I think that's important if things aren't proceeding so well in the canopy.
A good way to avoid that subject is to leave the glasses off. Or failing that, get a psychologist to cut your hair.
Like I said, transformation is a mysterious process but once the self-delusion kicks in at the hair dresser you truly have to accept it's hard to improve on perfection.
