Mrs. BD's Father's Day "present" to me was a trip to her fancy hair salon to get me an updated hair style to fit my Charlie Brown face and my buff body this past Friday. She said her gal there loves to do men's hair.
Can I say that I was not comfortable going to that place? I've been going to Tony, my same old Sicilian barber for 25 years and only when it's past the point of necessity. My wife's cute and athletic hair gal (who I know from the gym) and Mrs. BD agreed that my haircuts were primitive and made me look old and stodgy, like a dorky Senator from Arkansas or a dork from 1980. "Short or long?" was Tony's only question.
Story below the fold -
First off, you need an appointment for this deal. I insisted that Mrs. BD make the appointment and that she accompany me to do the talking. I wanted to be a passive participant in this event.
Anyway, my wife's delightful gal fusses with my hair for a minute or so with her fingers, and then sends me off for a hair wash: "We're a salon, not a barbershop." The hair-wash assistant washes my hair. First time somebody else washed my hair since I was a little kid and my Mom did it. This assistant did 2 tours in the US Army with her husband.
OK, hair expertly-washed. Comforting to me was that all the clients at 630 pm were guys, and all seemed normal - no hipsters, trannies, etc. I am then sent back to the chair, and was offered a glass of wine. Nice touch. I drank it.
At this point the hair gal has formulated a plan, and discussed it with Mrs. BD. We'll layer it for a more contemporary look and eliminate, more or less, the part. All I say is that I don't want to look like I have a TV haircut. "Don't worry, we'll make it very natural." I say "I just want to look like a movie star, Steve McQueen or Brad Pitt or Harrison Ford."
Snip snip snip. Fuss fuss fuss. Tousle tousle tousle. Snip snip snip. I like being touched by cool women. She and I discuss our exercise routines. She works out 6 days/week before work, weights and cardio. It shows. Naturally, her own hair is up to date, adventurous by country club standards.
Then "Now I'll show you how to use the gel." I object, get pushback. "It's invisible. You have to use it." That's done (just a tiny dab and it is invisible, no grease). Then a major tousle and she says "Here's how you do this. No comb - never comb it. Just shake it all up and then run your hands through it like this and this..."
Mrs. BD thought it was very good. She said I looked less dated. Maybe so, I dunno. She paid. Gal said "See you in four weeks, and then we'll do a quick thing to reduce some of your grays." Four weeks? Sheesh. I'm an every three or four months guy.
Why uncomfortable? Maybe I felt like I intruded into a private female domain, the way a woman might feel entering a cigar shop or cigar bar full of macho guys puffing away and talking shit. Even though evenings are all guys at this place, during the day it's Estrogen City. You can feel it.
It's about appearances. Of course men and women can look fit, sloppy, or slovenly. Whether I needed to learn it or not, I learned that, from a presentation standpoint, men can also look "dorky" or more "contemporary". Women can look "dowdy" or "chic." Depending on your professional life and social life, maybe it matters and maybe it doesn't. If I looked ok with a crew cut, I'd prefer that.
