Perhaps feeling emboldened by the gorgeous weather or just distressed by the snaggly nature of my tresses this morning, I decided on a whim to stop into a salon de coiffure in the 6th that looked friendly and didn’t cost more than 90 euro.
I’ve only been brave enough to get one other haircut here, fearful that my atrocious French would only lead to even worse hair than I started with. I’ve waited for trips home to see my main man Marcus, who thinks it’s totally insane that I don’t want to get coiffed in the hair capital of the world. But I’m really particular about my haircuts and my hair cutters. I don’t need or want anything fancy, but I’ve got weird hair. It’s super fine but also curly-ish and has a tendency to flip out in really bizarre, uncontrollable ways. Yet I still want to be able to just kind of roll out of bed in the morning and have it be luscious and long and flowy without having to do anything to it.
So pretty much I’d like to just wake up as Sarah Jessica Parker or Blake Lively. Is that so much to ask?
Anyway, at my first French haircut I was disturbed to discover that often everything gets charged separately. Le shampooing, the coupe, the blowout– even the dang conditioner were all sold individually. Which is really confusing if you’re not sure what the stylist is saying to you anyway.
This time, thankfully, le prix was all inclusive– and when I say all inclusive, I mean I got 2+ hours of chair time with a lovely French man from Bourgogne who attended to every hair on my head with delicate attention while telling me all about why starting a business in the US is easier than in France, his plans to visit the Grand Canyon, his love of architecture and opera, the current immigration situation, his opinion of Sarkozy, his distaste for socialism, his views on development in Africa, and how to take a boat ride down the canal St. Martin. He also told me I was the prettiest mother-to-be in Paris and wanted to know if I had a sister. Or a cousin maybe.
Sheesh. The last time I talked to Marcus all I got was a story about how one to many margaritas on the beach led to his shaved head. And that once you shave your head, you might as well go for the hoo-hah!
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le coiffeur/la coiffeuse
Pronunciation: luh kwah-fuhr/ lah kwah-fuhz
Definition: hairdresser (male/female)
Pronunciation: luh kwa-fyr
Definition: hairdo or hairstyle. As in,
“My, that coiffeur gave you a lovely coiffure!”