I’m getting a silent haircut
A new way of taking "me" time
I didn’t realize I dreaded haircuts until a friend told me how much she looked forward to hers. She called it, “Me time.”
Dread may be overstating my experience of it. More accurately, I’m outcome motivated when it comes to my time at the salon:
I just want my hair to look cute when I leave.
Until this week, haircuts were something I endured to reach the end result I desired.
Many years ago, one stylist put both hands into his pockets mid-cut as he launched into a story about childhood trauma. The haircut took almost two hours. Another stylist fantasized about calling a family member on her birthday to curse her out, “just to piss in her Cheerios.”
With my hair dripping onto the black tarp draped around my shoulders, I was a captive audience.
Each instance became the last appointment after many years of excellent haircuts. In both situations, the relationship had grown into something I hadn’t intended. Generally, I’m glad to be someone that people trust enough to share the intimate contours of their lives, but paying to sit in a faux leather chair, trapped into hearing a stylist’s emotionally draining monologue is not my idea of a good time.
These days, at their best, I get a head massage and some cute conversation about costuming with a fellow New Orleanian.
At their worst, they’re very expensive mandatory small talk appointments where I’m subconsciously policing my boundaries for fear of the conversation taking a turn toward a one-sided venting session.
This time will be different.
Tomorrow, I’m getting my hair cut by a lovely stylist I’ve been seeing for the last year. I finally worked up my nerve to ask her for a silent haircut, one in which I have my headphones in and my iPad out.
I was nervous about how my stylist would react. Would she feel insulted that I didn’t want to socialize?
She responded to my message enthusiastically, saying that she has a few guests for whom silence is in their “ideal comfort zone.” She told me she actually focuses better as well. Hell yes!
Once our haircut game plan is set tomorrow, she said she’ll encourage me to “get calm and zone out.”
Her message immediately evoked an exhale, a sigh of relief.
I can read Celia Laskey’s excellent new book Cover Story and listen to Sabrina Carpenter. This actually sounds like an appointment to look forward to.
For years, I’ve encouraged clients to “name their needs” and have strived to do the same in my own life.
Until recently, I couldn’t name my needs at the salon other than a good cut. I knew I didn’t particularly enjoy small talk and I despised trauma-dumping, but I didn’t know how to best advocate for myself.
The social decorum of the salon meant that I was supposed to enjoy conversation and connection, two things I typically love. But between the hairdryers and echoey chatter, it always felt difficult to connect. Add to it my hairdresser relationship history, and the origin of my reticence feels obvious.
I didn’t name my needs before because I didn’t know what they were. Now that I recognize that requesting a silent haircut is neither disrespectful nor an entirely uncommon practice, I’m relieved to explore a haircut that suddenly feels much more like “me time.”
I’ll let y’all know how it goes.
Cheers,
Lelia
Upcoming Get Sh*t Done Days
in Partnership with Salon22
After getting requests from y’all, I’ve decided to host my first virtual GSD Day since the pandemic!
Have tedious tasks you just can’t seem to finish? To-do list items that you keep procrastinating on? Join me for a grown-up study date to get shit done.
Tuesday, July 8
10-12:30 in-person
Salon22 (2407 Bienville St.)
Thursday, July 24
11-12pm
Zoom
