I cut my own hair. I also cut my fellow’s hair and for some reason that’s socially acceptable, but, according to my sisters, cutting my own hair is weird. Maybe it was weird but I’ve done it my entire adult life. Considering the current global pandemic I don’t think it’s weird anymore. What’s weird to me is risking your health for a haircut. There’s not a vaccine yet. It’s just hair. Cut it yourself.
I was a freshman in college the last time I paid for a haircut. Where does a 17-year-old gal with a couple of crisp fives in her pocket and no clue go for a new look? Not 5th Avenue. I went up 5th Avenue past the elegant building where Richard Gere supposedly lived, past Art Deco towers and the Beaux Art style pre-war buildings of lower 5th Avenue. Oh, a marbled beauty boutique. Here’s the place for me.
I walked up to the mezzanine thinking the gold railing was a nice touch. I felt fancy and not at all out of place. There I spent 30 seconds with a woman I’ve never forgotten. Ten heads of red hair blew from her scalp. I still remember her pained face upon touching my dead sun-bleached hair and telling me it was very porous. I said, “Thanks!” She said she’d help me for $100. I said I’d be right back and headed far from 5th avenue all the way to 6th avenue.
Supercuts was on 6th Avenue. I love Supercuts. Never been back there since, but I’m pretty sure they’re the best salon in NYC. There I paid 11 dollars for a simple chin-length bob, and tipped another 11 dollars because that’s how I thought tipping worked at salons. I walked out after what felt like hours later with ear-length hair because my stylist was a student and I couldn’t keep my head straight. The haircut was great but was it worth having to look at myself in a mirror while a stranger touched me and talked to me? She washed my hair and I know this is standard but I was horrified. Nope. Never again. I began cutting my own hair and don’t see how it’s any different from cutting my own nails or washing my own hair.
Today, I read this in the New York Times email:
Haircuts have become a symbol of luxury during a pandemic that has shuttered many barbershops and hair salons. Waiting lists for $1,000 cuts are already swelling in New York…
NY Times
Hmm. Maybe my 5th Avenue frenemy was offering me a kindness. Maybe even then $100 for a fixing cut by a fancy pro was a good deal.
Also, I wish people wouldn’t risk their health for a hair cut. Protesting for Black Lives Matter, yes. Be safe. But don’t risk your health for a hair cut. There’s not a vaccine yet. I remind my sisters when they show off their stripes of purple, pink and blue. No problem coloring their hair but the fear of the scissors is real.
What’s the worst that can happen if you cut your hair yourself? I ask them this and they send me the worst pictures of me, those sweethearts.
Truth be told, home hair cuts don’t always turn out so well. They can go bad and when they’re bad they’re really bad. Sometimes you have to put the scissors down and wear a hat for a few days. Then you get back in there and even it out. I still have short hair and it figures itself out. My hair is a work-in-progress. I take breaks when my arms get sore.
A few tips:
Cutting my own hair comes out best when I’m in a good mood. Sometimes you get a dip in the back. This should be severed post-haste. It’s not cute. Don’t trust a significant other when they tell you it looks great. Especially if he can’t be trusted to warn you about giant coffee stains on your white shirt before leaving the house. Always use hair scissors and call them shears. Don’t cut your hair when you’re sleepy or emotional.
Anger = way too short
Frustrated = uneven
Stress = weird
Worry is okay. If you’re worried, cutting hair is a pleasant distraction, but do it a little at a time and don’t cut bangs. Don’t cut bangs.
Oh, yeah. Do yourself a favor and never tell anyone you cut your own hair.