a day at the hair salon

Why is it that there is a sense of intimacy at the hair salon where a hair appointment turns into a confessional? That hairdresser’s chair becomes the proverbial couch where personal feelings and issues are discussed with abandon.

I find this so strange because it’s not an intimate place at all. One must speak loud to be heard over the background noises of music, running water, hair dryers humming, and other people talking. So, why in the world would someone want to practically shout out their private thoughts, emotions, and personal events?

I find it even more interesting that strangers become instantly familiar in that setting, offering comments, advice, and personal experiences, etc. to strangers that they overhear talking. This is not an episode of Steel Magnolias. It’s a shop full of women whose coinciding hair appointments is really the only thread that links them, yet they talk over one another, asking personal questions, giving unsolicited advice, and acting quite familiar when they are really strangers. Yet no one seems to mind, notice, or think it is strange. Well, except me. I think it’s strange.

I, on the other hand, sit in that chair and turn the focus on my hairdresser and get her talking about herself. I ask her about her day, her family, her plans for the weekend/summer/holidays, etc. anything to keep the focus on her. This is her environment, she knows the other hairdressers. She may possibly know their clients. She may know their lives, they may already know hers. I don’t know. But I do know that these people don’t know me and won’t know me even after my appointment. Maybe I’m the odd one, but I can’t bring myself to openly share my private life so loudly and so freely with people I do not know.

Just my random thoughts….

 

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