Conversations with My Hairdresser

“You want what?”
“I’m sick of my straight hair, I need a change?”
“But I haven’t done one of those for almost twenty years!”
“Please, I really want curls.”
Shaking his head, stopping to wipe the sweat that had formed on his brow,
“I’ll try and order the largest perm curlers there are.”
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
“I want to be a blonde.”

My love affair with my hairdresser is no secret. He is fabulous, Italian and amazing with a pair of scissors and GHD. Back when I was in high school and needed to be saved from a horrendous bowl cut, I was introduced to Tony. Since that day, we have shared a date almost every six to eight weeks – without fail.

Everyone loves Tony. My cousins go to Tony. My mum, my sister, my best friend and all her family, go to Tony. He is part of the family. When my cousins and aunts from Malta plan a visit to Australia – one of the first things they ask is for us to book them an appointment with Tony!

Sitting in that black chair, wrap on, hair wet and waiting, Tony and I have always managed a great conversation. At the beginning, when I was still in high school, we spoke about exams, studying and what I was going to wear to the end of year formal. Later in life, things changed drastically in both our lives and we found ourselves talking about our weddings (only a week apart!) and later talking about our children.

There is something about sitting in a chair at Tony’s salon that opens up a whole new world of conversation. Sometimes we sit there and talk about the mundane. Other times we sit and chat about the crazy. Sometimes we sit there and don’t chat at all; eavesdropping into the conversation happening in the chair next to us, holding back smirks and giggles.

A head full of foils and smothered in peroxide seems to give a person certain clarity about life. Tony and I have sat there and overheard the world’s problems solved, school parking issues sorted, dress codes for school drop off debated and the perfect wedding etiquette guide re-written many times over.

Tony and I have done it all together. Long hair. Short hair. Undercuts. Foils. Fringe. No fringe. Perm, and blonde. In our history together, I have only had one indiscretion and learnt the hard way that love affairs like this one only come once. So the years ahead hold many more coffees and conversations with Tony.

I especially loved my last appointment. I was sitting in my chair with Jess blow drying my hair, while, in the chair next to me sat PJ. Wrapped in his little Wiggles cape, hair wet, sitting so quietly and patiently – while Tony cut his hair. Eavesdropping, I heard PJ tell Tony all about the latest level he had just passed on Angry Birds.