A Fowl Fly Over the Clouds

I finally got the hair cut that I desperately needed. My long hair was getting on my nerves and spent most of its time in tight headache inducing ponytails. I had been thinking getting it cut for a couple of months now, but never had the nerve to actually walk into a salon.
Originally, I planned to go alone because I wanted to surprise everybody with my boldness, but then Sally asked if I wanted to go for a walk on Friday morning, the day of the planned event, so I let her in on my secret and invited her to come along. This was probably a good idea, because I can imagine that I would have chickened out and not had it done. I’m like that.
I decided that I would travel to Hyehwa for the haircut because it is hip and full of young people. I didn’t want to go to a salon around Ssangmun and end up with ajumma hair. We stopped for coffee first and Sally tried to draw the hair cut I wanted. Visual aids are helpful in these situations. They didn’t turn out to well, but I think that extreme littleness of the bangs came through. The baby bangs were thing I wanted the most.
I chose to head towards American Apparel because I had seen three salons that all looked cool around there. We reconnoitered the three shops, assessing the intimidation factor and the level of coolness from each shop and trying to decide with had the cutest stylists. While standing in front of the last shop, I accidentally made eye contact with the receptionist, she could see us debated and laughed. We made one more round, but really the contact settled it.
Deep breath and move in.
The “designer” (as they are called in Korea), who had a fashion mullet, spoke no English at all. However, the receptionist spoke very well. So Sally and I explained what I wanted to her and she explained to him. Once we had finally decided what I wanted, the designer lead me to his chair, strapped on his work belt, pink leopard print, with rows of succors holstered like weapons.
He began to cut. It was like poetry or magic. He was a magician with scissors. It was truly beautiful to watch. I couldn’t take my eyes of his hands, which probably made him really uncomfortable. Or not, he was so focused the task that he might not have noticed that I was watching him.
Meanwhile, Sally was talking with receptionist. Sally learned all about her kids and their schools. They talked about Bryan and I. They talked about teaching English. They talked for a long time.
Eventually, the designer had to ask a couple of questions about my bangs, which I wanted really really really short. He had to ask the receptionist, we discussed and eventually decided on a length satisfactory for both of us. I have what I believe is called a widow’s peak, which makes really sort bangs kind of tricky. In grade six, Mrs. Reimer said that widow’s peak’s were beautiful and since then I have always though myself special for having one, until the day I realized that I look silly with my hair pulled back and nobody can see it anyway and it makes having proper baby bangs impossible. Curse the widow and her damn peak.
After he cut the bangs, he took me over to a sink to wash my hair (yes, after the cut, I though it was strange too). I love having my hair washed. It’s my favourite part of the hair cut. After he washed it, he brought me back to the chair, he dried it, assessed the cut, and then cut some more, including a thinning, which I was worried wouldn’t happen. Finally, he cleaned the hair off my shoulders and face (using a sponge type thing instead of the broom type brush thing with which I am more familiar), styled it, played with it a bit more, then finally bent down so that his face was level with mine in the mirror and smiled at me for the first time and said something in Korean. My first Korean haircut was complete. After I paid, the receptionist gave me a Tootsie Pop and a Brazilian chocolate. Why Brazil? I don’t know.
My short hair did not go over well with the students, when I got to school, kids started making fun of me, telling me I was not pretty and that I look like a guy from some Korean TV drama. And the teachers kept asking me if I had a reason. Usually a girl needs a reason, like a break up. One boy was nice. He asked me if I had a hair cut and then he said that it looked pretty. I could have hugged him. I almost gave him candy. Lots of Korean women have short hair, lots of pretty Korean women have short hair. I don’t know why mine was such a shock. I don’t really like cut either though. I will be happy when it grows out a bit. How long before I can put it in a ponytail again?