The Quest for Great Hair

It has been time for me to get a haircut for at least a month. I made sure to get one before we moved to Japan, nearly 4 months ago, and I was starting to look a little shaggy. Having had one or two bad hair cuts in the past (the poorly executed pixie of 1998, the double layer bob of 2009) I am a touch gun shy when it comes to finding a new stylist. Not to mention, I left a great on behind – miss you Naomi! I had been researching where to go since I got here, but was not 100% happy with my options until I heard of an Aveda salon in a local shopping mall. I’ve always had luck with Aveda stylists in the past, in fact that was part of the reason I went to my last lady – still love you Naomi!

The Promised Land

The only problem was this: the salon was off base with employees whose English was only slightly better than my Japanese (which consists of about two words). My first obstacle was making the appointment. I found out that one of the services afforded on base is someone who could help translate phone calls. A very kind middle aged Japanese man called on my behalf scheduling my appointment bright and early the following Saturday. Mission one: complete.

Saturday came and it was time to get my hair did. My appointment was right at 10am, the time the mall opens but I headed out about an hour early with the fam thinking I would just walk around beforehand. I assumed this mall, like many American malls, would at least let you into the main building before the stores opened. I was wrong. We arrived at about 9:15 and ended up spending the next 45 minutes walking around the only place that was open, an attached grocery store. Side not: this is when I discovered a curry doughnut is quite yummy.  At precisely 10, an elderly security guard greeted the waiting crowd and opened the large metal doors leading into the mall.

Curry doughnut goodness

The Gate Keeper in a nice blue uniform

We power walked from one end of the mall to the other passing dozens of store fronts on the way. At the entrance of each store stood a clerk and as customers would walk by the clerks would greet the passing group with an, “Ohayo Gozaimasu” and a deep bow. It was like watching a perfectly choreographed kick line.

Starting to really like this place

I entered the salon ready to face my possibly disastrous ‘do, when I was lead to a chair and offered a hot tea and towel. So far so good. I was then escorted to a changing room where I was instructed (more like, mimed) to place my robe over my clothes and trade my shoes for slippers. With the sound of traditional Japanese music playing and my new comfier outfit, I was starting to relax.

Before pic: feeling stylish

 Finally, after getting my hair washed and my scalp massaged (lying on a bed with a lightweight cloth over my face to keep it dry) I was off to the chair to await my fate. The stylists English was FAR better than I expected. He knew key words like layer and trim. We even briefly chatted about his trip to New York and how New Year’s is celebrated in our respective home countries. He looked over the six or so pictures I had printed at home and pulled out his shears. With a snip, snip here and a cut, cut there 45 minutes pass and he’s finished. I looked and touched my hair turning around to see the back…it was perfect! It was exactly what I wanted. I felt both relieved and happy. I would have done a jig but I think that might have been inappropriate so I refrained. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe I found my new stylist.

After pic: really happy!

Still loved it after washing it myself. The true test of a good cut.

It turns out you don’t need a common language to communicate with a good stylist; you just need to speak hair. I can’t wait until the next time I need a cut!