I looooooath going to the hairdressers cos it’s totally boring and no matter how firmly you read your trashy magazine you’re always dragged into an inane conversation with a perky girl all in black who is trying desperately to make sure you unload all your problems onto her when you can tell all she really wants to do is get on with doing your hair.
And then they always make you feel shitty about what you want to do with your hair and they try and convince you to do something else and call you babe a LOT and talk a lot about how damaged your hair is and THANK GOD that they have this $75 ‘serum’ that will fix it up in no time. And then when you say you can’t afford a $75 serum but thanks anyway, they sigh heavily and say something like ‘well, it’s up to you babe but you really want to start investing in something to sort out those damaged ends’.
FUCKING KILL ME.
This was my view on hairdressers. Until a week ago and I swear to god I found the promised land.
A number of posts ago I mentioned my wish for red hair. This is in the days leading up to Christmas and parties and get togethers and when everyone is totally busy and you can’t get an appointment anywhere. Well I’m wishing for red hair and I’m walking home from Gertrude St down Smith, (had just had a HORRENDOUS experience at Rose Chong Costumes – it turns out their customer service is somewhere in between Don’t Give A Shit and Fuck Off I’m Busy) and I’m walking along and I walk past Mieka Hairdressing.
So, on a whim, I walk in.
Me: Um, yeah, hi. Look I know you’re probably really busy and all but I really want to colour my hair and um I was wondering if you had a waiting list I could go on if someone cancels between now and New Year?
Nice Blonde Lady At Desk: Yeah sure! Or we could just do it now.
Me: Oh YAY! Really!? Cos I want to go from blonde to red…
and all of a sudden I’m surrounded by gorgeous girls with blunt cuts and exciting highlights who are telling me I’m going to look FABULOUS.
I would also like to add that at this point David Bowie was indeed singing the Labyrinth soundtrack over the speakers.
So I sit. I get given a hot chocolate, a trashy magazine, I show my photo, she says she can do it exactly, AND THEN SHE LEAVES ME ALONE!
I get to sit and read my wonderful bible of trashiness without being disturbed. When I venture a question, my colourist is all chatty and lovely but when I clearly want to read how to pilate my way to better orgasms, she is blessedly silent as she works away at my hair. It’s awesome.
BUT WAIT IT GETS BETTER!
I am a smoker. Or, I am a smoker that sometimes quits and then smokes again. My Hair Day also happens to be a Smoking Day and OH EM GEE DOUBLE YOU TEE EFF THEY HAVE A SMOKER’S COURTYARD. That’s right. Usually you’re dumped out on the street looking like a B-grade famous person who is about to be splashed over NW’s next issue of ‘Stars Without Makeup’ dragging on a fag while your head is wrapped in tin foil. But no, I get to sit in a pretty courtyard with dappled sunshine and my magazine.
BUT WAIT IT GETS EVEN BETTER!!
A. Free. Fucking. Blow Dry.
I am not joking. I remember the first time I got screwed over by the old blow dry trick. ‘Would you like a blow dry with that?’ And I’m like, well, yeah, don’t you usually dry my hair? Oh no my friends, that’s a DRY OFF. A BLOW DRY involves a multitude of different shaped brushes and an extra fifty bucks. Well Mieka not only blow dried my hair, but also curled it. I had salon curls! For free! For FREE!
AND THEN! I got sent on my way with lots of compliments and smiles and a showbag. That’s right I said it. A showbag. And the best damn colour I’ve ever had that happened to match the picture I took in exactly.
So if you’re in the area and looking for an awesome colour and absolutley the best service, check out:
308 Smith St, Collingwood, 3066, Victoria, Australia
Phone: 9416 5026
I am about to move to St Kilda but I aint ever letting this one go.