A small spot of pampering

As I was getting ready to come to Japan, I realized that I hadn’t cut my hair in a very long time and that it had reached that stage where I was sick of it and it just needed to be shorter. I was going to do the usual supercuts routine, but people convinced me to wait and experience a Japanese haircut. I didn’t really see how it could be that much different, but it was an outing, so why not.

The secretary at work very kindly set me up with her hairdresser – called ahead to tell them to expect a random gaijin, gave me directions, and wrote me a note in Japanese saying I wanted a haircut. So I walked in, said hi, and handed over my permission slip. The proprietor looked puzzled but read the note, then smiled, took my purse, and whisked me over to the shampoo station.

I don’t think I’ve had anyone wash my hair since I was little (and let’s face it, Mom was always more concerned with getting all of us clean but not drowned and in bed before midnight than with selecting the correct combination of scents for your mood that day). This was more along the lines of a massage masquerading as a shampoo. Fluffy towels to cushion and protect from splashing (now we know where all the good towels go here!), massaging water spray, scalp rub ... the works.

Ok, time to wake up from the nap and get ushered over to the cutting station. While the stylist blow dried my hair, I was scanning through picture books looking for something that wouldn’t make me look like a poodle. Here’s where I wished for the nth time that day that I spoke some Japanese (the total for the trip is well on it’s way to infinity). I pointed to a picture that was close to the hair style I had had before it got too long to tell, and stylist (oh so very politely) turned a couple of pages and pointed to something similar but not quite. I had to agree that I thought it would look better, nodded, and (with a small prayer to the poodle god) gave myself up to her scissors.

Now, admittedly the entire reason I was here was because my hair was so long it was getting in my way. But it’s still nerve wracking to see that much hair end up on the floor. Especially when you can’t ask what she thinks she’s doing. Or if she realizes that hair that is straight when long can be rather curly when short. But she continued merrily snipping away while her assistant brought me iced coffee. And since I hadn’t seen any coloring materials come out (my biggest fear was ending up with orange hair), I just shut up and sat still.

It turned out to be a very Japanese style - cut the top 2/3 to frame the skull, let the bottom 1/3 curl around to the front (not for nothing do I watch all those talk shows on Japanese tv!). Perhaps not what I would have chosen, but it’ll work. And she did, by some miracle of telepathy, get my bangs to exactly the length I wanted.

This is about where a salon in the US says “thank you very much for letting us charge you oodles of money, when should I schedule your next appointment”. But not here. Now came the real neck and shoulder massage. Wow. Just wow.

Then when I was a puddle of goo, the styling gel came out and she spent another long time adding volume and putting every hair into place just so. In the end, I did look rather like a fluffy poodle, but she was so proud, I just smiled and said thank you a lot before I went home and washed it all out.

2 hours of pampering for the price of a 45 minute hair cut by a regular salon at home – I could see how people get addicted to this (everyone here, even the guys, have fairly regular appointments. And while I’m assuming discount places a la supercuts exist, I haven’t seen them yet). Epicurux says his wife goes all the way to Japantown in SF to get her haircut – I might have to get the name of her stylist!

Happy Fourth of July! And yes, they have hot dogs and corn and even watermelon (the last served with a little salt package for some reason) so I’m all set.