I Got a Great Clip at Great Clips
Getting haircuts is kind of like flying on airplanes: you know the person doing the job is much better at it than you’ll ever be, but what if they make a mistake?
So I tend to put off getting haircuts for as long as possible. (There’s also a frugal argument in there: the longer I wait between cuts, the fewer cuts I need in a year, the more money I save. Something like that.)
I also have a $10 pair of hair scissors that I bought at CVS, and I use them to relentlessly trim the Florence Henderson-esque growth off the bottom of my hair. But eventually it’s no longer enough just to hack at the mini-mullet growing at the back of my head, and I have to pay someone to take care of it.
My last haircut was on April 5, 2014. I hated it. I wanted my usual longish, soft pixie cut, but I got… well, I think I shouldn’t have used the word “fluffy” to describe what I was looking for, because I came out looking like an un-evolved Pokemon.
The celebrity picture you bring to the haircut is important. I’m not the only person who always brings a celebrity photo to the session, right? I usually bring a picture of Carey Mulligan, circa Shame, because her face looks kinda like mine and her longish pixie with the front part twisted and pinned back is pretty much how I wear my hair all the time. (I try and stick at least one bobby pin in my hair every day because I put my hands in my hair when I get nervous, and having the bobby pin in there prevents me from doing that.)
Once I brought in a picture of Emma Watson’s pixie cut. I got a really great haircut off that pic, but it made me feel weird. Bringing in someone who is way younger than you, or has a completely different face shape, or—let’s be honest—is way prettier than you just feels wrong. I already feel like the stylist is judging me for bringing in celebrity hair instead of, say, a selfie of a really good hair day. We take so many selfies now that there should be no excuse for bringing in a celebrity picture.
And then I saw the trailer for The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby and thought “I have to get that haircut.” I’ve got this cowlick—which, by the way, how did we all agree to call it a “cowlick?”—which makes some of the hair over my forehead go up and back instead of down and forward, which is why I only get bangs once a decade and then remind myself why I can’t ever get bangs. But Jessica Chastain’s hair, in that movie, also goes up and back. And it’s a longish, soft pixie cut. And she’s age-appropriate.
So I went to Great Clips. I could have gone to any of the numerous hipster hair salons in Seattle, and trust me I’ve been to a few, but I was just not feeling paying $70 for a haircut plus tip, especially with a stylist who is probably going to try and talk me into something a little more edgy, even though I was at that very moment wearing a sundress from Ann Taylor Loft. Look upon my sundress, oh stylists, and know: I’m not edgy. I am basic and tidy and functional.
Mario at Great Clips took one look at Jessica Chastain’s swept-back pixie cut and gave me that exact haircut in 10 minutes. It was an amazing experience. The haircut cost me $15 and I tipped 100 percent.
In six weeks I’m so going back to Mario. Or maybe eight weeks. Maybe I can stretch it to two months. We’ll see how it grows.