That time in the oldest barber shop of Madrid
“I’m going to the hairdresser”, says my mum in the Netherlands with a lot of enthusiasm. I try t oremember when was the last time I got a haircut. 2,5 years ago? 3 maybe? My mum disturbs my thoughts. “You should really go as well. I’m sure they have hairdressers in Madrid as well? And perhaps it will be a lot cheaper!”
Perhaps it’s important to mention that I REALLY don’t like going to hairdressers. I feel uncomfortable with the obligate small talk – because once you’re in that chair you’re doomed to tell everything about yourself for at least half an hour – and I get quite nervous when those scissors are moving just millimeters next to my face. But since even I noticed that my hair was becoming more and more horrible I felt it was the right time to go. After all, I was in my favourite city in the world.
“Searching” for a hairdresser in Madrid
Honestly, it wasn’t a lot of searching. As if the hair gods heared my mums prayers I walked the next day in the centre of Madrid and found one quite fast. I liked the colorful entrance and when I entered at least ten heads turned, a bit surprised it seemed. I asked one of the hairdressers if I could get a hair cut in this place. More to be polite than to expect an answer. She shook her head, told me the place was only for male customers and continued trimming the beard of the guy in the chair. At first I thought she was joking. But since I wasn’t planning on searching for more hairdressers I asked her if there was absolutely no possibility to get a haircut here. She hesitated, but finally she took her agenda and gave me an appointment fort he next morning.
“Jessica, is that really smart? To go to a hairdresser’s saloon where they only know how to help guys? A lot can go wrong, you know.” Thanks mum, that really helps.
The next morning I sat somewhat nervous in the chair. In the oldest hairdresser’s saloon of Madrid. The wall is filled with photos, certificates and newspaper articles. The yellowed color shows that many pictures were already here before I was even born. The brightly colored floor, the low ceiling and the old-fashioned barber chairs took me to another year. I was not in Madrid anno 2016 anymore.
The woman had a hard time brushing my hair. I know lady, that problem I have every morning… After washing my hair she asked what I wanted with my hair. Only the necessary of course. She showed me the minimum length. Is my hair really that bad? As you may know, I’m quite impulsive. So within a minute I decided to go for a whole new look. And so my long locks of hair were joining the short men’s hair on the floor.
Do I miss my long hair? Absolutely. But hair will grow back and I actually really like this new haircut. It feels so much better and more healthy! And I’m quite satisfied with the result. What do you think? Moreover, I don’t have a big fight with my hair every morning anymore. And perhaps the best reason I liked it – besides the price and the result: I can say that I got a haircut in the oldest (male) hair saloon of Madrid! I’ve left my long curls back there, but I will never loose my wild hair.
Disclaimer: with this story I really don’t want to assault hairdressers, so keep in mind I’ve written this article with a bit of humor. And I’m actually very happy with the result and the fact I went to a hairdresser again, my hair feels as good as new!