The Hair Dye Adventure

I had one mission today, and that was TO GET MY EFFING HAIR DYED.

If you know me well, you know there is little in this world that matters more to me than my hair being adequately red, and when it is time to dye it, it is time.

This has been a project I've been working on all week--to find a hair salon where they A) Know what they're doing, and B) Speak enough English that I can communicate, in no uncertain terms, what I want done. Practicing French at local businesses is all well and good, and a very important part of learning a language. I'll order at restaurants in French, buy other things in French, but when it comes to dying my hair? YOU'RE GOING TO SPEAK ENGLISH TO ME AND YOU'RE GOING TO UNDERSTAND.

Sandrine, our resident director, recommended a place to me that speaks English called "Helsinki Coiffure." I called the woman, who spoke very good English, and apparently she runs the salon alone and told me to come by for a consultation. I was incredibly proud of myself for looking up the directions and finding it on my own, but as soon as I walk in, she sort of pulls at my hair and looks very doubtful. I explained to her what it was I wanted (just to dye all of it red, with permanent dye, protecting the blonde streaks) and she was like, "No, no, It's not possible. I can't do it. I have regular clients and even with an appointment I think no...Ugh, it will be too long and very messy process. Go find another salon." And shooed me out!! I was furious, and had a true moment of "I-hate-France" culture shock at its finest. No fucking women's hair salon in America would tell you your hair was too long to dye ONE COLOR. Bristling, I stormed off and was like, You know what? Fine. I'll go to the Croisette and I will find a hair salon that will do my hair and will gladly accept my money. Today.

I had heard tell of a salon on the Croisette (the very fancy street where all the fashion houses are) that spoke English, but I thought it might be too expensive to bother, but at this point that seemed like what needed to happen. I passed by one salon that was RIDICULOUSLY overpriced (and charged 10 euros extra if your hair was long, no matter what the procedure, like really?) and then I sort of stumbled upon one that looked like how a nice, trendy hair salon should look. Artistic overhead lamp and white floors and black stations, leather couch and attractive stylists, good music, and at this point I was so frustrated that I walked in and was just like, "Bonjour. Anglais?" And the owner was like, yeah! And I noticed on the door it said "English, Italian, and Arabic all spoken here." It was a sign. The owner was incredibly enthusiastic and welcoming and competent and it was a huge and well-staffed salon. Redken brand, Keratase...it was legit. My stylist was named Julian and was probably one of the most beautiful and fabulous men I've ever seen in my entire life. They permanently dyed my whole head and deep conditioned for less than 100 euros, and blow dried it all kinds of perfectly. Well done and very worth it.

I have a great sense of accomplishment right now, and I rest comforted in the fact that if there's one thing I can trust myself to do on my own it's get my hair done properly at a great salon.

Little victories.