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The Haircut Story
May. 13th, 2004 03:48 amI got my hair cut today.
I traipsed all around the damn city to find the place, spent more time on McGill College street and Beaver Hall street than I ever would have imagined possible, and walked by Square Victoria no less than five times, but I got there.
You see, my city is odd.
It has a street named McGill and a street named McGill College.
The salon I had an appointment with is located on McGill.
To me, that means McGill College, because, until today, I had no earthly idea there was a street named McGill.
I used the Tous Azimuts tool at the STM website to figure out how to get to the salon.
Take the bus to the metro. Take the metro to Square Victoria. Walk 425 metres.
All right, cool, no problem.
I took the bus to the bank, got some cash, went to the metro, exited at Square Victoria, and was promptly lost. In my own city. In my HOMETOWN.
I went and looked at a map of the area, across the street, and found McGill College, and decided that that was the last time I listened to the STM for directions, because that 425 metres looked to be all uphill, and it looked to be more than 425 metres. So I started trudging up side streets in downtown Montreal and finally, get to McGill College.
And I notice I have a problem. The street numbers are starting at 1200. I duck into Place Ville Marie and I call the salon.
This is when I realize I'm at McGill College and not McGill, and yes, there is a difference, and the STM was right to direct me to Square Victoria.
Go me.
20 minutes, a lot of walking later, and after helping a cute British couple to find Lucien L'Allier, I find the salon.
Oh. My. God. They spent 15 minutes washing my hair. And I got a scalp massage. I nearly fell asleep as the girl was shampooing, but when she starting actually massaging me? I was in heaven.
The stylist was amazing. A friend recommended him to me a few weeks ago, saying he has good vision. Which is awesome, because I have NONE, and I don't know what's good for my hair and my face. But he does! Yay Joseph.
So I tell him that I have no idea what I want, but it must be short, cute and manageable.
"Cute-pigtail-cute or cute-chic-cute?"
"Chic-cute."
"Okay."
So he shows me a photo of a cut that he's thinking about doing, only a little longer, due to the shape of my face, and I'm like, hey, yeah, sure. And he explains to me what he's going to do and why (which is awesome) and then does so.
He cut my hair to give it texture and to give it "movement", and he actually suggested that if I like it, next time I should colour my hair a shade or a shade and a half darker, using my natural colour as highlights. Which I'm considering, for the first time in my life. The cut is below my chin and will just barely make it into a ponytail, but the front is shorter than the back, and the sides sort of angle up from the back to the front. He debated giving me bangs, but decided against it. No complaints here, but had he recommended them, I would have gone with the suggestion, because at this point, I trusted him completely.
So. I am now chic-cute. Or my hair is, anyways. :) And I'm a lot better travelled in this little city of mine.
(Insomnia sucks.)
I traipsed all around the damn city to find the place, spent more time on McGill College street and Beaver Hall street than I ever would have imagined possible, and walked by Square Victoria no less than five times, but I got there.
You see, my city is odd.
It has a street named McGill and a street named McGill College.
The salon I had an appointment with is located on McGill.
To me, that means McGill College, because, until today, I had no earthly idea there was a street named McGill.
I used the Tous Azimuts tool at the STM website to figure out how to get to the salon.
Take the bus to the metro. Take the metro to Square Victoria. Walk 425 metres.
All right, cool, no problem.
I took the bus to the bank, got some cash, went to the metro, exited at Square Victoria, and was promptly lost. In my own city. In my HOMETOWN.
I went and looked at a map of the area, across the street, and found McGill College, and decided that that was the last time I listened to the STM for directions, because that 425 metres looked to be all uphill, and it looked to be more than 425 metres. So I started trudging up side streets in downtown Montreal and finally, get to McGill College.
And I notice I have a problem. The street numbers are starting at 1200. I duck into Place Ville Marie and I call the salon.
This is when I realize I'm at McGill College and not McGill, and yes, there is a difference, and the STM was right to direct me to Square Victoria.
Go me.
20 minutes, a lot of walking later, and after helping a cute British couple to find Lucien L'Allier, I find the salon.
Oh. My. God. They spent 15 minutes washing my hair. And I got a scalp massage. I nearly fell asleep as the girl was shampooing, but when she starting actually massaging me? I was in heaven.
The stylist was amazing. A friend recommended him to me a few weeks ago, saying he has good vision. Which is awesome, because I have NONE, and I don't know what's good for my hair and my face. But he does! Yay Joseph.
So I tell him that I have no idea what I want, but it must be short, cute and manageable.
"Cute-pigtail-cute or cute-chic-cute?"
"Chic-cute."
"Okay."
So he shows me a photo of a cut that he's thinking about doing, only a little longer, due to the shape of my face, and I'm like, hey, yeah, sure. And he explains to me what he's going to do and why (which is awesome) and then does so.
He cut my hair to give it texture and to give it "movement", and he actually suggested that if I like it, next time I should colour my hair a shade or a shade and a half darker, using my natural colour as highlights. Which I'm considering, for the first time in my life. The cut is below my chin and will just barely make it into a ponytail, but the front is shorter than the back, and the sides sort of angle up from the back to the front. He debated giving me bangs, but decided against it. No complaints here, but had he recommended them, I would have gone with the suggestion, because at this point, I trusted him completely.
So. I am now chic-cute. Or my hair is, anyways. :) And I'm a lot better travelled in this little city of mine.
(Insomnia sucks.)
