HairApparent
‘What!’ chorused the whole national tennis team when the determined and unyielding Judith Spears, our manager and coach, announced we would need to have our hair cut even shorter.
Earlier that morning, our coach expressed her desire for the whole team to look the same with neat and tidy hair. To achieve that, she had amateurishly cut everyone’s hair, with my assistance, to equal the length of my own stumpy ponytail. She had cut their hair far too short so, when we began practicing on the tennis courts, we all looked a complete mess within minutes. Her subsequent conclusion that we would need to have our hair cut even shorter had resulted in the team’s strident outburst.
Noting Ms Spears angry stare at their loud complaints, the dissenters in our team mumbled a conciliatory “sorry” or a “pardon”. Occasionally they added “Coach” which was Judith Spears preferred mode of address. However, the grumbles continued.
‘I think we should let Coach explain exactly what she means,’ I yelled above the turmoil to quell the discontent. Silence followed as accusing eyes turned towards me, the youngest member of the team and the most recent arrival.
‘Thank you, Chloe,’ nodding her appreciation in my direction. ‘Now that you have all quite finished, we need to decide the best way forward with restyling your hair.’
Earlier, Emily attempted to appease our coach after the mistake with cutting the team’s hair. Everyone knew the power that Judith Spears wielded in the tennis world, and nobody wanted to lose their place on the team. Unfortunately, our coach dismissed Emily’s valiant effort and that caused her to behave more antagonistically.
‘I have told you, Coach, that my stylist may not be available for weeks. And it will affect my sponsorship agreements by having this ridiculous haircut … or an even shorter one. It could cost me thousands -’
‘As far as I am aware, none of you have any signed agreements,’ the team manager interrupted. ‘So, Emily, is your potential sponsorship agreement for haircare products?’
‘Well … er, no. It is for sports socks,’ Emily explained sheepishly, causing the team and our coach to chuckle. She added desperately, ‘but some deals for haircare could follow …’
‘Unless you are successful in tennis, then even the sports socks manufacturers will not be interested in sponsoring you,’ Ms Spears reasoned. ‘If you wish to remain in the team then I can coach you to become a better tennis player. I strongly believe that a unified team with a uniform appearance will allow all of you to swiftly achieve your full potential. Well, Emily?’
It was an impressive speech. The team held their breath. Emily had listened with her head bowed. She remained in that position for almost half a minute.
Even before I had joined the team, I had seen the socials proclaiming that “Emily’s Set for Greater Things”, along with the use of other witty words associated with her chosen sport. And it was true. Unlike me, as well as being a good tennis player, she also had the looks and stature of a model. I imagined she would be one of the select few who would need to tread the fine line between finding time to achieve success in tennis and attend promotional events on behalf of lucrative sponsors.
During that period of silence, I imagined Emily weighing up her options. Did improving her tennis as part of the national tennis team, have greater value than the lost sponsorship deals associated with hair products. I had no doubt it was a tricky decision for her.
Emily lifted her head and faced Judith Spears with a conciliatory expression. ‘Please, Coach,’ she pleaded, ‘can you arrange for all of us to have our hair cut shorter? If you could select the same style for all of us – ideally one that is fashionable but, more importantly, one that is appropriate and practical for playing tennis – it will be a great benefit to us all.’
= * = * =
The whole team hoped that Emily would acquiesce to our coach’s demands to avoid further unpleasantness. However, to hear her submit and plead for an even shorter haircut was something of a surprise.
Judith Spears, our coach, smiled. ‘It will be my pleasure, Emily, to have your hair cut shorter. And do the rest of you girls all agree to have yours cut?’
There was no obvious dissent, but my teammates looked far less enthusiastic than I was feeling. I was buoyant at the thought of having an opportunity to try out a fresh style on my eternally “bad hair”. One that might be more suitable for playing tennis. Furthermore, I had enjoyed assisting our coach when she severed the ponytails of the rest of the team, and I was already looking forward to seeing what she had planned next.
‘Splendid,’ Judith Spears said, accepting our silence as agreement. ‘Now, we must resolve this inconvenience swiftly so we can return to the practice courts as soon as possible. So, do any of you have any knowledge or experience of hairdressing?’
The whole team exchanged astonished looks and, unsurprisingly, none of my teammates claimed any suitable skills. Why would our coach entrust her team’s hair to a non-professional, I wondered. But then she had cut off their ponytails herself. Was expediency the reason as she had implied or, I considered, was there a deeper reason associated with the cutting of the hair. I imagined the rest of the team were tossing similar thoughts around in the minds. The silence grew increasingly uncomfortable.
To prevent the doom-laden atmosphere returning, I decided to make a humorous offhand remark to break the silence. ‘Well, my auntie used to be a hairdresser and I sometimes used to help out on Saturday mornings, but -’
‘Thank you, Chloe!’ our coach interrupted, appearing to take my revelation as a serious claim of competence.
Emily looked astounded while the rest of the team simply sniggered.
‘So, everyone now has hair that is a little below chin-length,’ our coach remarked. ‘What I propose is that everyone receives a similar style to my own angled bob. A fashionable style, Emily,’ she smiled in girl’s direction, ‘but one that is also practical.’
I doubted the veracity of that statement. As far as I could recall, it had never been a fashionable style in my short lifetime, but it may have been before I was born. Furthermore, I was unsure whether it would be any more practical for playing tennis than the amateurish cut the team already had. Nevertheless, I had to admit it was a nice hairstyle and one that I thought suited Judith Spears perfectly.
There was a collective shrug of assent from the team on hearing the coach’s intentions for their hair. From the murmurs I overheard, the consensus was that any experienced stylist was likely to do a decent job on their hair. A job that that would certainly be no worse than our coach had made of their hair with her amateur lopping.
I settled back with my cool drink, wondering how soon our coach would be able to make an appointment for all of us to have our hair cut.
‘It is a straightforward task for my stylist when she trims my hair,’ our coach said excitedly, patting the base of her angled bob. ‘So, Chloe, with your experience, I am confident you can smarten everyone up swiftly. Then we can get back to some more training before lunch.’
‘What?’ I blurted out breathlessly.
Our coach gestured with her hand as if waving away any concerns I might have.
Emily, momentarily shocked, supported my worries. ‘You can not be serious,’ she cried. ‘She is not touching -’
Ms Spears gesturing hand stopped waving. She held her upraised palm in front of Emily’s face to silence her. ‘Please remember that you recently requested a haircut, Emily, and now I ask you to trust my judgement. Please return to your place on the bench.’
Emily opened and closed her mouth more than once, resembling a goldfish, as if she were preparing to argue with the coach. In the end she said nothing and tottered slowly towards the bench where the coach and I had lopped off her ponytail earlier.
I was unsure why Judith Spears would have believed that I, given my youth, might have genetically inherited hairdressing skills from my auntie. However, our coach seemed unconcerned by my lack of qualifications as she thrust her scissors, comb, and a towel in my direction.
Without thinking or saying a word, I took the proffered items and glanced over to Emily who was hovering nervously by the bench as if her legs were about to give out on her.
‘Please sit down, Emily,’ I requested with all the confidence I could muster.
= * = * =
I carefully studied Judith Spears’ hair to provide me with guidance for cutting Emily’s. I recalled my auntie cutting similar styles on older clients when I had been assisting in her salon. It was a start.
Earlier, when our coach had interrupted me, she had not given me the opportunity to recount the details of the experience I had gained in the salon. Performing the occasional shampoo and sweeping the floor were most common. Admittedly, I had enjoyed watching the hairdressers at work and I found the reactions of the customer interesting, especially when they underwent major transformations. But would that be sufficient to undertake what Judith Spears was urging me to do?
I had enjoyed helping our coach cut the ponytails of the team earlier. Therefore, I knew I would find trimming their hair exciting and pleasurable in equal measure. As our coach had pointed out, her bobbed hairstyle was not elaborate, and it should be simple enough to copy. Given I had Judith Spears’ unequivocal trust and support, I could see no reason not to proceed as she had directed.
‘I am not letting Chloe cut my hair,’ Emily moaned in a final defiant protest, although she had now sat down on the bench as I had instructed.
‘As you have heard, Chloe has the relevant background,’ our coach stated emphatically. ‘Besides, you have already stated that your potential sponsors would be disappointed by your current appearance. Your hair needs styling immediately … especially if you intend to remain in the team.’
= * = * =
On hearing our coach’s threatening words, Emily shoulders slumped, and she remained silent. I arranged the large towel around her shoulders. After removing all the grips and bands she had used to control her hair, I combed it through and arranged it evenly around her head. It looked vaguely like a bob, but a dreadfully uneven one.
With my assigned task, I knew I had to simply act with confidence and authority, showing no weakness. It had always been that way when coached with my tennis, and there was no reason for my new “career” to be any different.
‘Sit up straight, Emily,’ I commanded, and she shuffled on the bench, straightened her shoulders, but remained silent.
I stole another glance at Judith Spears immaculate bob, then I set to work with comb and scissors. I positioned the comb at a slant at the side Emily’s head. From a point just below her chin at the front, the comb angled up to a higher point at the back of her head that was level with her hairline. It functioned as a perfect guide so, with barely a pause, I quickly snipped away all the hair hanging loosely below the comb. The angled line of the bob was taking shape. I repeated the same action on the other side and then paused to assess my progress.
The edges were not perfectly level, but the basic shape was reasonable. I checked and rechecked the angled line, continually making minor adjustments as I proceeded.
I stood in front of Emily and compared the lengths each side of her head. Annoyingly, I discovered one side was longer than the other, so I snipped a little more off the other side. Having taken off a little too much, I had to trim the other side.
‘Please, sit up straight!’ I ordered, frustrated that Emily’s slovenly posture may have caused the issue I was facing.
‘I am straight,’ Emily snapped back indignantly.
I huffed, repeating the sequence of levelling up each side, nibbling away at the length, until I was satisfied. However, in so doing I had inadvertently levelled out the angle of the bob. I was unsure how it had happened, but the front was level with the high line at the back of Emily’s head. Rather than an angled bob, it had become more like a standard short bob. Admittedly, an exceedingly short bob barely touching the tops of her ears, but a style I found surprisingly attractive.
‘Oh, I was not expecting that,’ Judith Spears remarked as I stood back for her to examine my work. ‘Emily has a bowlcut.’
‘A what?’ Emily piped up, clearly unfamiliar with hairdressing terminology. I was remarkably familiar with the specific style as my auntie regularly gave a bowlcut to my brother. Our coach’s description of the haircut was certainly accurate.
‘No need to worry, Emily,’ Judith Spears advised, a note of panic creeping into her voice. ‘Just a slight variation of the style I have.’
“Slight” might be a slight understatement. I considered teasing, but seeing the worry on the face of everyone I decided it was best not to make a joke of the situation.
‘Chloe has cut your hair very well,’ Judith Spears commented, casting an anguished smile in my direction. ‘She just needs to tidy up the, er, edges … a bit.’
Emily sighed, clearly accepting that whatever she said would make no difference to the outcome.
Standing back so that Emily could not hear, our coach whispered in my ear. ‘As you have uncovered the hairline at the back, you will need to trim it more closely in order for it to look neat,’ she explained.
‘I did try, Coach, but these scissors do not really allow me to cut it short enough,’ I countered, frustrated. ‘But I did try,’ I pouted.
Judith Spears turned away without commenting. She rummaged in the small case from where she had produced the scissors and comb earlier. Turning back to face me, she held up a cylindrical metallic device with shining teeth at one end.
‘These are not the best hairclippers, but they should be easier for you to control when trimming the hairline,’ our coach suggested.
I had never had hairclippers in my hand and, compared with the massive one used by my auntie, these looked like a toy. But they looked more than capable of tidying up Emily’s straggly hairline.
I clicked the switch on the device and a loud hum filled the air. ‘Head down, Emily,’ I advised.
Whether Emily had any idea what I was doing or whether she just wanted it over with, I was unsure. But she had obediently tilted her head forward and with my free hand, I held it in place.
I slowly ran the blade of the hairclippers along Emily’s neck. I marvelled at the short hairs disappearing, with smooth white skin revealed in their wake. Her neck looked so lovely and fresh.
Having got the measure of using the hairclippers, I speeded up their application and went higher up the back and towards the ears at the side. I reasoned that removing hair underneath the bowl shape would stop in fluffing out as well as creating an undercut that would allow the hair to turn under. Furthermore, I was simply enjoying the task so much that I did not want to stop.
‘Excellent work, Chloe,’ the coach said in admiration for everyone to hear. ‘I can see that we were correct in placing our trust in your abilities.’
Reluctantly, I took that as a cue for me to silence the hairclippers.
‘You should have used the comb to guide how much the clippers took off, Chloe,’ she whispered nervously. ‘There are types of hairclippers that have guards you can fix to control the length, not these unfortunately. You have shaved her to the skin.’
‘Yes, I know,’ I acknowledged proudly, excited by what I had achieved and not appreciating there was an issue.
Ms Spears shook her head in exasperation, and I realised that she was chiding me rather than praising me. ‘Oops,’ I giggled.
I whisked the towel from Emily’s shoulders and indicated a mirror on the wall. ‘You look really cool, Emily,’ I said truthfully.
As she looked in the mirror, Emily’s eyes widened, and a hand shot up to feel her neck. There was a moment of silence before a heartfelt cry of anguish.
= * = * =
‘Next,’ I called out to my teammates cowering in the corner, shaking out the towel in readiness.
‘She shaved me,’ Emily whined to no one in particular. She had continued looking in the mirror, tugging at her hair as if forcing it to grow.
‘Er, I think we need to take stock of the situation and decide how we proceed,’ Judith Spears stated vaguely, looking worried.
‘No,’ I countered, ‘the whole team need to look the same. Next!’
I realised that my enjoyment at what I was doing was threatening to override common sense.
‘Chloe, you have done very well, but I am not sure that a bowlcut is the most practical of haircuts for tennis players.’
‘It is,’ I argued indignantly.
‘No, it is not!’ shouted my teammates. All apart from Emily, who just looked numb.
‘Oh yes, it is,’ I echoed in a parody of a pantomime.
‘Chloe!’ Judith Spears snapped. ‘Without being able to tie it back in a ponytail, it’s probably a worse style for keeping under control that what Emily had before.’
Hearing her name, Emily spun around from looking at herself in the mirror. ‘Quite right, Coach. My hair would flop around like a spaniel when playing and I would look ridiculous.’
‘Sorry, Chloe, but I have to agree with Emily,’ our coach insisted, ‘and the rest of the team do not approve of the style either.
The dark glares coming from the corner of the room confirmed Judith Spears’ assertion.
‘I approve of it,’ I piped up breathlessly. ‘I want my hair cut short like Emily’s,’ I insisted.
It was true. I wanted a bowlcut. And what is more, I was quivering with excitement at the thought of having the hairclippers shaving off the hair on my neck.
‘And who would do that for you?’ Emily laughed. ‘You cannot cut your own hair and no one else here can cut hair as badly as you.’
‘Your hair is not cut badly,’ I disputed.
‘Enough!’ Judith Spears demanded. ‘We need to reverse our decision from earlier.’
‘Finally,’ Emily sighed, ‘showing some common sense.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Judith Spears snapped indignantly.
‘Reverse it, like you said,’ Emily persisted. ‘Our hair is too short to be practical on the tennis courts. So, growing it out like I said earlier, makes complete sense.’
‘No, you have it wrong again, Emily,’ Judith Spears countered.
The whole team exchanged puzzled looks as they looked from one person to the other, as if watching a tennis match. I was confused too.
Taking a deep breath, our coach held out her arms for effect. ‘The whole team’s hair must be cut even shorter!’
‘Wow! Brilliant!’ I blurted out without thinking, but mine was the sole voice of assent.
Five pairs of threatening eyes bore into me, their owners wishing I had remained silent.
I gulped, wishing I had remained silent too.
“Emily’s set for greater things” was an oft repeated phrase on social media.
“Emily’s set for an even shorter haircut” had become a more accurate assertion in the short term.
‘Come on, girls, off we go,’ our enthusiastic coach called out.
We all wondered what to expect next and, while I detected an undercurrent of fear, I was intrigued and excited.
