A Hair Appointment in Paris

Yesterday I had my hair cut and colored at the neighborhood hair salon.  There are many, but I chose to make my appointment at a salon just a couple of blocks from the apartment.  It's called Dessange and I think it is sort of like the Gene Juarez of Paris. Unlike today (cloudy, wet, and cold!), yesterday was a sunny and mild day.

Because I am basically hair impaired and very intimidated at the hairdresser, I needed to fortify myself for the experience by stopping for an espresso first.  I dropped into a cafe' just below me called Indiana.  The server was a young gal from London who has served me before.  I told her I was going to get my hair colored and asked for any tips.  She told me if I wanted highlights then to tell them I wanted a "mesh".  "It's rather scary going to a strange hairdresser," she said with that cute little London accent, "I still go to London to have my hair done."  That was encouraging.

Actually I love to do the everyday things in a foreign country because it's fun to see their different ways.  At Dessange all of the employees, besides the man in charge, wear white uniforms with a little pocket on the chest.  The first woman I encountered gave me a white robe to put over my clothing, took my coat and scarf and  showed me to a chair. The robe had a pocket on the arm and they slipped my bill in the pocket so everyone who worked on me had access and could add to it.

Then a lovely young girl, Soleve, came and explained in French that she would be cutting, but Edith would be doing the color.  Edith came over and the two asked me what color I wanted.  We went back and forth for a bit, and then Soleve said, "Do you speak English?"  I love it when they say that because I assume they are being so polite. I'm quite certain there was no doubt that I spoke English from the moment I stopped by the shop to make the "rendez-vous."

But Edith and Soleve soon discovered that it wasn't the language that was the problem, I just didn't know exactly what I wanted as far as color was concerned.  Finally I looked at Soleve and told her I wanted my hair to look like hers.  I could tell she was flattered when she told Edith in French what I wanted.  Then the two of them discussed it a bit, asked me if I wanted to cover up the "white" (!) and made the decision on the coloeur themselves (a little bit of honey), which was fine with me, especially after I heard the word "mesh."

With the color decided, Soleve told me that the color would be noted on my bill and put in the computer later, and then offered me coffee and magazines, and told me Edith would be along shortly.  Edith pushed a rolling cart over, put on her little clear plastic bib and white gloves and went to work.  While she was doing the highlights, she would put a dab of color on her gloved hand and then pick that up with a little paint brush to apply it to my hair that had been sectioned off.  Instead of foil, she used felt strips on the individual sections of hair. She didn't speak any English and probably didn't think struggling with my French was worth a conversation, so I just kept reading the magazines.

When she finished she rolled her cart to the next client.  The very best part of the appointment was when another girl (not a stylist) washed my hair.  She spent about fifteen minutes giving me a head massage under warm water.  It was great!  Then she combed me out, and directed me to a different chair.

While I was being washed a woman left the shop unhappy.  That caused a bit of drama (hair salons must be the same in every country!) - they were all talking about it, and Soleve was in the midst of it. So when she started to cut my hair she wasn't quite as charming as she had been earlier. We had already decided that she was just going to trim and refresh so I wasn't worried about her state of mind.  And she did a great job.

When all was done both she and Edith stood around me and admired their work.  I retrieved my coat and scarf and went to pay.  I was expecting it to be expensive and I wasn't disappointed. After I ran my credit card, I asked the receptionist if  "La service est compris?"  Tipping is a bit of a chore here, because I never know when or how much is expected.  But the receptionist assured my that the gratuity was included, but....if I would prefer, I was certainly free to leave "le pourboire", which literally means "for a drink".  And since I didn't have a clue as to how much, I pulled out two 10 Euro bills and handed one to Edith.  She didn't take it, she just pulled that little pocket on her chest open and I dropped the bill in.  Soleve did the same and everyone was happy when I walked out the door.

I tried to take a photo of my new hair color, but it is difficult to take a picture of one's self, so there are no photos.  Maybe when Rick gets here.