hairscribe and f35h
It was Andy’s turn to look gobsmacked now. Maria was standing in front of him with the sweetest and most wonderful head of tight little curls, only the day after they’d had a huge row because he’d suggested that she might like to try having her hair permed. He’d been worrying that she might never forgive him for it, but here she was, having apparently done just what he suggested. What on earth had happened?
Before he could get his brain into gear to ask, Maria got in first.
“Gosh! I know I asked you to go to the barbers, but I never expected you to have it cut that short!” She saw his face start to fall. “It looks wonderful,” she added hastily. “Really smart. Mum will be so pleased that you made an effort to look your best for the party. And I think you look very handsome. So tell me, surely you didn’t have it done at your usual place?”
“No,” Andy replied, “It was, uh, more of an old-fashioned barber’s.”
He told her what had happened, though tried to make it sound as though he had always been intending to have his hair cut for the party, rather than only remembering at the last moment.
“Gosh, well I guess it’s shorter than you wanted it, but it does look very smart. And thank you so much for having it cut properly; I really appreciate it.”
“Ah, that’s OK.” Andy smiled ruefully, glad at least that Maria didn’t seem to think that he looked like a freak. “But how about you? How did you end up all short and curly?”
“Well, while you were sitting in your old-fashioned barbers, I was in Mum’s kitchen, having my hair cropped and permed, just like she’s always wanted. I told you that her hairdresser was coming round to do her hair for tonight? And I’d said I’d have mine done too? Well, I told her that since it was her birthday, I’d have it done however she wanted.”
“And she wanted you to have your hair just like, uh… “ Andy tailed off.
“Yes, just like hers.” She smiled at him. “I’ve now got a nice, tight, curly perm, just like my Mum. So what do you think? You did say last night I should try perming my hair didn’t you?”
“Oh, er, yes, er, I didn’t really think you’d do it so soon, though.” Andy was floundering, and he saw Maria’s expression darken. “It looks really lovely though. Very, uh, ladylike, and, um, grown up.”
“Thank you.“ Maria wasn’t totally convinced by his reaction, but decided to take it at face value. ”I’m glad you think so, because it’s staying like this. These curls won’t wash out, you know, and you’ll have to get used to having a girlfriend with short curly hair.”
At this point, Andy’s mum poked her head around the door.
“Hello Maria,”
“Oh, hello Mrs. Hill.”
“I just wanted to say thank you, for making Andrew go and get his hair cut. Heaven knows I’ve told him enough times, but of course, he never listens to me. I always used to make him have it cut nice and short, even though he hated it, and wanted it long and scruffy, so it’s lovely to see him looking like a nice smart young man again. He looks so much nicer with his hair cut up nice and short like that, don’t you think ?”
“Oh yes, absolutely. He looks so handsome, and I can actually see his face properly now!”
“Oh I’m so glad to hear you say that. Now, Andrew, I don’t want to see your hair getting long and untidy again. I trust you’ll be a regular visitor to the barber now? And keep it in a proper parting, too. I’m quite prepared to put a comb through it myself, if you don’t keep it tidy.”
“Quite right!” put in Maria. “He’ll be having it short and smart from now on, if I have anything to do with it.”
“Well that’s settled then. Now, Maria, you look absolutely lovely with your hair all curled up like that.”
“Oh, thank you! It’s a bit of a shock, I have to say.”
“You’ll get used to it soon enough. I always used to have mine in a nice short perm, you know, until a few years ago.”
“Really? Why did you change it?” Maria was curious. Andy’s mum had worn her hair in a layered and highlighted bob, about chin length, since Maria had known her. It was always heavily sprayed to keep it perfectly neat and tidy, and Maria found it hard to imagine her with any other style.
“Oh, well, my old hairdresser retired. I’d been going to her for years, so I just had no idea what to do. I eventually ended up at another salon, but it was much more modern, and they talked me into growing the perm out – well it was half grown out anyway by the time I started going there – and having highlights, and, well, it ended up like this.” She gestured to her hair.
“It’s tidy enough, I suppose, but they never do it quite how I want, and it’s a lot of fuss. You know, seeing you with all your curls makes me want to go back to having it permed again. It was just so easy to manage, it never gave me any trouble. The problem is finding somewhere to do it properly, though. All the traditional ladies’ hairdressers seem to be closing down.”
“Well,” Maria paused, not quite sure if she was doing the right thing. “If you don’t mind a home hairdresser, I know just the person.”
Maria woke up feeling immeasurably better than the previous day. She’d moderated her drinking enough to ensure she didn’t have a hangover, but more importantly, she’d not had any rows with Andy or her mum!
The dinner had gone wonderfully; Mum had been absolutely delighted to see Andy looking so smart, and she had been far from the only one to tell them what a lovely couple they made. Andy had overcome his surprise, and told Maria several times how much he liked her curls, and that – as long as she was happy to – that he’d love her to keep her hair short and curly for good.
Once she’d taken her coat off, he’d also complimented her on her dress, saying that whilst he realised it wasn’t the sort of thing she normally wore, he thought it really suited her and hoped that she would wear it again. Maria accepted this gracefully, realising that the modest and matronly dress did actually look entirely appropriate on a young lady with a conservative tight perm and a clean, scrubbed face. She really would have to revise her wardrobe!
A bonus had been seeing her bossy Aunt Jane, who’d always been critical of her appearance. Maria had been sent to stay with her occasionally as a teenager, and had dreaded it. As soon as she arrived, her aunt would zealously apply soap, flannel, nail scissors and hairbrush to make sure that Maria was scrubbed and presentable, putting her hair into tight plaits.
She would then go through the clothes Maria had brought and declare most of them unsuitable, instead making her wear childish dresses with peter pan collars, scratchy woollen cardigans and white knee socks.
More recently, she would unfailingly make disparaging comments about Maria’s short skirts, long, highlighted hair and (in her view) overdone makeup. Aunt Jane hadn’t seen Maria since she’d cut her hair, and had actually failed to recognise her at first. The look on her face was priceless, when she finally realised that it was Maria with the short poodle cut and prim floral dress.
The evening had finished with her and her mum, sitting on the sofa together and watching Emmerdale. She’d felt really close to her mum, and suddenly found herself loving the fact that they now had matching curly perms. It was a very strange feeling, given how much she had always cherished her long straight hair, but it was also strangely comforting. She had finally drifted off to sleep that night wondering just what all her colleagues, and especially Sarah, would say at work on Monday.
Sarah woke up, stretched, and carefully put her hands to her head. She was relieved to discover that the hairnet was still firmly in place. Mum had started insisting that she wear one to sleep after her regular Saturday shampoo and set. Last week it had slipped off during the night and despite Sarah not really noticing the difference, Mum had spent some time fussing with comb and lacquer to make her hair pristine for church. Hopefully, Sarah would be spared that today.
Hairnet notwithstanding, Sarah was actually thoroughly enjoying the experience of being a prim and proper, conservatively dressed young lady. If her hair wasn’t set, then the perm really was wash and go, and not needing to style it meant that she didn’t even need to wash it nearly as often as before. No makeup either meant that most mornings she just had a good wash with soap and water, and spent about a minute dragging a comb through her curls.
She spent a lot less time worrying about what to wear, too. She just picked a nice skirt and blouse, made sure that all the buttons were fastened, and didn’t have to think about whether she looked smart enough or was showing a bit too much skin. She always looked smart, presentable, and modest, so she had no concerns.
The best thing, though, was spending more time together with her mum. She smiled as she recalled their trip to Maureen’s the day before.
“Good Morning Mrs. Eavis, Sarah.”
“Good Morning.”
“Now just pop yourselves down over there, and I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Sarah and Sheila were ushered to the waiting area of the busy salon, and sat quietly chatting until Jenny, the Saturday girl, came to take Sheila away for her shampoo. Sarah looked around the salon. She was, as usual, the youngest client there, but there was a selection of ladies in their thirties and forties, as well as the older generation.
It was comforting, Sarah thought, to see that traditional hairdressing wasn’t dying out, with virtually all of the clients being set on rollers and popped under the dryer. Some of the younger ones would opt for softer, more natural styling, whilst the older ladies generally preferred their hair stiff, formal and very well lacquered. Sarah was something of an exception to this, as Sheila always insisted on both of them receiving the same traditional, formal set that was mostly preferred by the more mature ladies.
Sarah didn’t really mind this; with her short tight perm she was well out of step with most of her contemporaries anyway, and she quite enjoyed the idea that she might encourage some of the salon’s younger clients to go ‘all out’ and try the more formal, set styles. She also knew how happy and proud it made her mum to see her smartly dressed, and with her hair in a traditional, neat and formal style, and this in turn made Sarah happy. She absolutely loved the feeling of walking out of the salon, or into church, with her mum, knowing that they had perfectly matching, primly set hairdos, and that everyone would know that they had just been to the salon together.
They left the salon, their hair as immaculate as Maureen and Audrey always made it. There was just a hint of breeze in the air, so Sheila insisted that they both cover their pristine sets with a headscarf. Sarah rolled her eyes slightly, but fished hers out of her handbag, where it lived along with a plastic rain hood, folded it neatly, and tied it firmly under her chin.
Sheila couldn’t stop herself adjusting Sarah’s scarf minutely, even though there was nothing wrong with it.
“There! That should keep your hair in order.”
They walked back along the high street towards Sarah’s Nan’s flat. They attracted little attention; two smartly and modestly dressed ladies, primly-set hair covered with sensible headscarves. Occasionally though, someone would notice that Sarah was in her twenties, not her fifties, and do a double take. Sarah always gave a little smile when this happened, enjoying the way that she was upending peoples assumptions.
They walked through the reception area and into the day room of the sheltered accommodation.
Pat was already there, waiting for them. She was wearing a smart navy blue dress with a white lace collar, and her snow-white hair was also fresh from the hairdresser’s, neatly set and gleaming with lacquer.
“Hello dears.” She beamed as they approached. “Is it windy out?” She gestured to the scarves they were both still wearing.
“Just a little bit.” Sheila replied, as the scarves were replaced into handbags. “I wanted to make sure that we stayed tidy.”
“Well you both look lovely. Sit down and have a cup of tea.”
Sarah sat down, carefully smoothing her skirt behind her legs, and keeping her knees together. She realised just how comfortable she felt in these surroundings. With her long pleated skirt, navy tights and conservatively buttoned-up blouse, she fitted in perfectly with both the residents of the flats, and their visiting families. There were one or two sullen looking teenagers in ripped jeans or inappropriately short skirts with too much makeup and hair falling in their faces, and Sarah felt slightly embarrassed as she remembered that it wasn’t so long ago that she had turned up to visit her Nan dressed like that.
Pat had always been pleased to see her, of course, but Sarah had known even then that a clean face, tidy hair and a more modest outfit would have been more appropriate, and put a real smile on her Nan’s face. And now, as a presentable young woman, she felt so much closer to her Nan than when she used to visit her in jeans and with her sassy, messy hairdo.
She knew, though, that dressing smartly, and adopting a traditional, feminine hairstyle was more than just a show of respect for her grandmother; it was an acceptance of her own place as a responsible member of the family. She could take pride in looking grown-up and respectable, and even though she had sacrificed her trendy image, and knew that many people would think her less attractive than before, the sense of belonging she had gained made her genuinely feel more confident and self-assured.
Sarah gestured impatiently at her mum. If they didn’t get a move on they’d be late for church. Sheila raised her eyebrows back. She was on the phone with a notoriously long-winded neighbour, who Sarah knew could make it very difficult to end a conversation.
Frustrated, Sarah checked her hair again in the hall mirror. She had decided it was unscathed from her night’s sleep, but had still given it another good long spraying. She had come to love the extra stiff and shiny finish of a fresh coat of lacquer, and she knew that Mum would appreciate it too.
Eventually, Shelia managed to extricate herself, and heaved a sigh. Sarah drove, but they had to park some distance away and only just slipped through the door before the service started. They managed to find seats, and after a little while, Sarah started looking around, trying to spot people she knew. She quickly identified Mrs. Heathcote, a few rows in front of them, but there was no sign of Rachel. Sarah frowned, hoping that Rachel wasn’t ill.
She saw Mrs. Heathcote exchange one or two words with the lady on her right, but Sarah didn’t recognise her. She wondered if it might be her sister, Rachel’s aunt. There was a certain similarity between them, and not just the matching tight curly perms that they both had.
It wasn’t until the end of the service, as everyone turned and started to leave that the penny dropped. Sarah hurried over, as discreetly as she could.
“Oh my goodness! Rachel, you look so lovely! I was never expecting you to have your hair permed! Tell me all about it!”
Rachel took a deep breath and smiled. “Hello Sarah. I thought you’d like it.” She patted her curls with both hands. “Well, you know that I was planning to have my hair cut off, for Mum’s birthday photos, but I wasn’t going to go this short. I wanted something that would be easier, and that would look smart for the photos, so I was going to have it cut up to my shoulders, get rid of all the ombre that Mum hated, and have it kind of curled under at the ends.
“So I made myself an appointment for Tuesday, just before we had the photos taken, so it would be a surprise. Mum had a mobile hairdresser coming to do hers beforehand, and she begged me to have mine done too, but I told her I already had an appointment, and that I’d make sure it was nice and tidy for the photos. I think she was just expecting me to have it put up, or something.
“I didn’t want my normal hairdresser to talk me out of it, so I’d decided to go to a salon some of Mum’s friends go to. It’s more of an old-fashioned ladies’ hairdresser, and I thought they’d be happy to cut my long hair off and make me look nice and respectable for Mum. Jetset, it’s called, on North Street.”
“No way! That’s where me and Mum go. It was Maureen there that cut my hair off too, not that it was as long as yours. Anyway, that’s a lot shorter than shoulder length. What happened?”
“Well, as it got closer to the big day, I started thinking about how the photos would look. I could imagine me and Mum, her with her neat little perm and me with my hair here,” Rachel held her hands just above her shoulders, “and that was fine. But then I thought about the bigger group photos. Mum’s sister, my Aunt Irene, has a perm just like Mum’s, and my two cousins, they’re, er, two and four years older than me, but they’ve both got proper grown-up haircuts, up over their ears and always neat and tidy, so I thought that even with my hair cut to my shoulders, I’d still be sticking out a bit.”
She looked rueful for a moment. “I’d told Ross, my boyfriend, that I was going to get it cut up to my shoulders, and he told me not to, so when I said I was thinking about going even shorter, we had a massive row. He basically said that he wanted a long-haired girlfriend, and if I came back looking like an old woman, then we’d be over.”
Sarah looked shocked. “That’s a horrible thing to say!” she sympathised.
“Well, we hadn’t been getting along very well for a while. I think that was part of why I did it, to be honest. I didn’t know what I was going to do until I was sitting in Maureen’s chair, and then I just thought: ‘Stuff him!’ It’s not his hair, and he can’t tell me what to do with it.’
So I told Maureen that I needed it all cut off, because we were having family photos taken for Mum’s 50th, and I wanted to look as smart as possible. I explained that Mum’s always been desperate for me to have a neat little perm like hers, and I felt it was time for me to grow up and look a bit more respectable. I showed her a photo of Mum on my phone, from a family party last year when she’d had her hair done especially, and asked her if she could do mine the same.
“Well, she didn’t need asking twice, and before I knew it, most of my hair was on the floor. She cropped it all really short, telling me what a lovely thing I was doing, and how delighted my mum would be to see me looking like a proper young lady.”
“That sounds like Maureen.” Sarah smiled. “She couldn’t wait to get her scissors into mine, either, and she certainly likes to send her ladies home looking neat and tidy.”
The perming process Rachel then described was familiar to Sarah, having been through it herself so recently, and she nodded understandingly at the descriptions of the tightly wound rods and the terrible smelling chemicals.
“It’s not fun sitting through that, is it?” Sarah sympathised. “But when the result is such a lovely little head of neat and tidy curls, it all seems worth it, don’t you think?”
“We-el…” Rachel didn’t seem entirely convinced. “It certainly made Mum happy, which was the point, I suppose.”
“Oh yes, I bet. So how did she react?”
“Well, once the perm was done, Maureen set my hair so that it looked just like the photo of Mum. It was such a strange feeling stepping out of the salon, with my hair all gone, and these tight, stiff curls on my head. I got home, and walked into the kitchen. Mum looked at me really oddly, like she couldn’t believe it was me!
“I turned round to show her the back, and how neat it was, all cut up off my collar, but she still didn’t believe me, she thought it must be a wig, with my long hair tucked up underneath it! I eventually persuaded her that I really had had it cut, and then I had to sit her down and give her a cup of tea before I told her that it was permed as well.”
Sarah chuckled. “Well, it must have been quite a shock for her.”
“I’ll say. My aunt was pretty shocked, too.” Rachel lowered her voice and looked around. “She’s always done this passive-aggressive thing, saying what a shame it was that I was so attached to my long hair, and how grown-up I’d look if I had it cut up nice and short like my cousins.
“So when she saw me with this prim little shampoo and set, just like Mum’s, well, she just couldn’t think of anything to say. Which made quite a nice change!”
“Ha! I guess you showed her. So….. what about Ross? How did he take it?”
“Badly.” She shrugged. “To be honest, I’d pretty much decided when I told Maureen to cut and perm my hair that I didn’t want anything to do with him any more. He made it perfectly clear that he was more interested in my hair than in me, and I told him that when I went round to pick up some stuff that I’d left in his flat. He didn’t say much, but it was obvious that the relationship was over, and we were both happier that way.”
“Well good for you. There’s plenty more fish in the sea, and I’m sure you can find someone who cares about you for yourself, and doesn’t just expect you to be a fashion accessory.”
“Thank you. Yes, well, I’m not in any rush for a new boyfriend at the moment. To be honest, I’m actually really enjoying spending more time with my mum. We’re getting on so well, and I just feel so much closer to her. She’s been really supportive, with me breaking up with Ross, and the reaction from some of my friends. Most people have been lovely, but one or two seem to have decided that I’m not worth knowing any more. I suppose making a change like this is one way to find out who your real friends are.”
“Hmmm.. yes, I suppose so.” Sarah pondered her own experiences with Stephanie, Maria and Sophie, but before she could respond, Rachel was off again.
“Oh, the funniest thing with Mum; you know you can’t wash your hair straight after a perm, so I’ve had to go to work all week with the shampoo and set that I had for the photos.”
“Oh, yes, of course,“ Sarah grinned. “How did that go down?”
“Oh, really well. All the little old ladies at the care home loved it, and kept telling me how much nicer I looked. And my boss was delighted. She’d always thought that my long hair was untidy, and she’d tell me off when it got in my face, and nag me to put it up all the time. And she’s very keen that I keep it properly set.
“The only downside was that Mum made me wear a hairnet to sleep in, and still insisted on putting more lacquer on every morning.”
“Snap.” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “It does seem to be the best way to keep a set looking pristine, though. “
“Anyway, I eventually washed it out on Friday night, and Mum was so funny; she’d loved the set, but couldn’t wait to see how I looked with just the perm. She kept telling me I was going to be all tight and curly, just like a poodle!
“The way she said it made me really nervous about it, but once I’d done it, it was fine. It’s super-curly, obviously, and maybe I do look like a poodle, but I actually really like it, and it’s so nice knowing that I don’t have to spend any time fussing with it.”
“Absolutely!” Sarah nodded vigorously. “I’m never going back to long hair, and spending hours in front of the mirror.”
“Me neither. I might have to get used to the hairnets and lacquer though.” Rachel pulled a face. “There’s a hairdresser who comes into the care home on a Monday, and does all the ladies’ hair. My boss told me that she wants me looking as smart as possible, so she’s booked me in for a shampoo and set every week at nine o’clock.”
“Well I think you look lovely and smart with your perm,” Sarah reassured her, “so I don’t see why you shouldn’t just wash and go, like I do for work.” She paused. “But I suppose you have to keep her happy. My manager, Wendy, doesn’t really mind either way, but she has told me that she prefers me with the plain poodle perm.” She shrugged. “So I have it set on Saturday with Mum, keep it like this for church, and then usually wash it out for work on Monday.
“As long as it’s tidy, and out of my face, everyone’s happy”
“Get your bottom on that stool, young lady. You need a haircut.” Mary was in no mood to argue. Sophie’s eyes widened in shock.
“Don’t look at me like that. I told you what would happen if you let it get untidy again. You know that it’s supposed to be off your collar and out of your face, and I intend to make sure it stays that way.”
Sophie couldn’t quite believe what was happening. True, her mum had told her last time she visited, a couple of weeks ago, that her hair was getting too long, and she should get herself into the hairdressers. Then last night, as soon as she’d arrived she could feel her mum eyeing up the hair that was now brushing her collar and hanging over her eyebrows. She hadn’t expected to be ambushed like this though. She’d come down from her shower, hair still wet, to find that her mum had set up the high stool in the middle of the kitchen, with comb and scissors laid out on the worktop. She didn’t know what to say.
“Er, I’m not sure, that, er. “
Mary cut her off. “Well I am sure. That hair needs a good tidy up, and that’s exactly what it’s going to get. I’m not having you looking scruffy at church, and if you can’t manage to make an appointment at the hairdressers, then I’ll just have to do it myself. Come on.”
Reluctantly, Sophie clambered up onto the stool, and allowed her mother to fasten an old towel around her neck. She remembered the shock when her mum had last cut her hair, to bring her into line with the dress code for her appraisal. She tried to recall how she’d felt afterwards; relieved, mostly, but also proud to know how happy she’d made her mum, and aware of how foolish her prior vanity had seemed.
Somehow, she’d forgotten those feelings, and allowed her hair to grow back. It looked like Mum wasn’t going to give her any chance to regain her vanity, though. Mary dragged her comb roughly through Sophie’s grown-out bob, tutting at the length, and poised the scissors at the back of her daughter’s neck.
With a few quick snips the inch or so of new growth was removed, leaving a clean, straight hairline well above where the collar of her work blouse would be. Mary turned her attention to Sophie’s fringe.
“Hold still dear, I want to make sure this is straight.”
Sophie thought about protesting; surely she could allow her fringe to grow out, and still keep her hair out of her face, but it was too late, the scissors closed, and Sophie’s eyebrows, and a good inch of clean forehead, were soon on show.
“Much better. Nice and smart, now that we can see your face again.”
The sloping sides of the amateurish bob were trimmed up in turn as Sophie sat, feeling slightly deflated at the way her mother had taken charge. It gradually dawned on her though, that Mary wasn’t to blame. Sophie had told her quite clearly before the last haircut that she needed it kept short, smart and out of her face for work. Mum in turn had told Sophie that if she let it get too long again, then she’d be having another home haircut. The fault was entirely her own, as she’d promised to keep her hair tidy, but had balked at actually asking a hairdresser to give her a proper, short, smart haircut.
Mary had simply been as good as her word, and if Sophie didn’t want more home haircuts from her mum, she would have to accept that her hair was now short, and it was going to stay short. She would just have to overcome her irrational hang-ups, and submit to the hairdresser’s comb and scissors on a regular basis.
She realised that if she went back to her old hairdresser, they would almost certainly try to give her a more fashionable look, or even talk her into growing her hair back out, but this wouldn’t wash with Wendy or her mum. She concluded, glumly, that she needed to find a traditional no-nonsense hairdresser, who would simply snip her hair off into a neat and tidy, modest and fuss-free style. Perhaps, she thought resignedly, she should just do as Wendy kept telling her, and take herself down to Jean’s, like Maria had. Jean would certainly make sure that her hair was tidy, and suitable for the office, and she could even go in her lunchbreak.
Mary unwrapped the old towel from Sophie’s shoulders and brushed away some stray hairs.
“There you go, young lady. All neat and tidy again. Now I’ve looked out a lovely dress for you to wear to church. It’s one of my old Laura Ashley ones. I’ll put it in your room and you can pop it on once you’ve had your breakfast.” She bustled out.
Sophie could guess which dress her mum was referring to, and rolled her eyes, but said nothing. She supposed that it was, again, her fault. She had been planning to change out of her jeans and t-shirt for church, but if she’d come down wearing the more modern dress she had with her, Mum probably wouldn’t now be trying to get her into a matronly floral frock. Oh well, she shrugged, why not, if it made her happy? It was only for a couple of hours. A faint smile crossed her lips as she realised that the thirty year old dress was probably last fashionable at the same time as her haircut.
Also published at https://f35hstories.wordpress.com/
If you would fill enough chapters, then all over the country all girls in her 20’s and older would spot a bubblecut perm ….. smile ….. so Rachel was you last victim and now Sophie is close to it ….. giggle