Thursday, November 11, 2010

the uptown salon

Today I got my haircut.  I go here:

(I have no idea where I got this picture from, and now I can't find it again.  Whoops.)

And here's the inside:

(Photo from New York Magazine, and courtesy of Bumble and bumble.)

Bumble and bumble (the uptown salon).  I know, right?  Fancy.  According to New York Magazine, it has been "trend setting since the late seventies" and is an "arbiter of hipness."  And that's just in the first sentence of the review.  The woman who cuts my hair (Laura Jean, for those who are curious) is amazing.  One thing I like about her is that she does not make me feel like I am not quite cool enough to get my hair cut there, which is how I have felt pretty much everywhere else I have ever gotten my hair cut in my life, other than the Bo Rics I used to go to as a child. 

But holy cow, the tipping that goes on.  If someone speaks to you, or breathes in your general vicinity, you owe them a tip.  The woman who takes your coat and gives you the little robe thing.  Tip.  The woman who washes your hair.  Tip.  Laura Jean her awesome self.  Tip.  Blow-dry guy.  Tip.  THANK GOD someone explained all this to me, or they would definitely think I was the cheapest person in the world, because it probably would not have even occurred to me to tip everyone separately.  It's like going to Catholic church, no one tells you when you are supposed to kneel, or do the sign of the cross, or what your're supposed to say, or anything, you're just supposed to know somehow.  For a while, the ATM in the back of Bumble was out of order and I did not have any cash, because I never have cash.  I was panicking, but they got it up and running before tip-time.  I don't know what I would have done otherwise.

On top of that, what are you supposed to do with respect to that black robe thing?  Are you supposed to take your clothes off underneath it?  I suspect you are, because there are dressing rooms.  But they are kind of loose fitting, and really, am I supposed to give my shirt to that coat-check woman?  And be NAKED underneath?  I don't know about that.  So I don't.  But I do actually think about what I wear the day I get my hair cut and try to wear something without a collar, so that once I get the robe thing on, it is not really clear whether I have taken off my real clothes or not.

All of this sometimes makes me feel just a tad like I am a stranger in my own life.  Yesterday at APW the guest poster talked about the Diamond Olympics (you know, comparing the size of your engagement ring to those around you -- competition is particularly fierce in NYC Biglaw).  I knew exactly what she meant.  I now get my hair cut someplace that is an "arbiter of hipness."  It's so strange to me that this girl from outside Detroit, who has always felt like she is not cool enough to get her hair cut at the haircutting school, for crying out loud, runs in these circles.  I know people who eat foie gras (or foie gross, if you ask me).  It's so effing weird.

P.S.  I am serious about the robe.  Please feel free to comment if you know what you are supposed to do, because I am always stymied.  Thanks in advance.

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