I'm a creature of habit. I know what I like, and I'm one of those people that could happily keep visiting the same place and ordering the same thing because I *know* I like it. For example, I have a favourite peanut butter gelato place. The kind of peanut butter gelato that when it hits my tongue seriously makes me wonder why I ever bother eating anything else. The kind of eating experience where you close your eyes and kind of unintentionally moan a little bit, because it's THAT good. So when I want gelato? I go there. I'll use up my whole lunch hour walking over there to get it, too. And a few weeks ago I did just that everyday. Right up until I discovered my favourite sandwhich place. Which I now visit every day because their sandwiches are ridiculous and amazing, and the people who run it are lovely. They even gave me a free lunch, once.
My point is, I have favourite places. At home, I know what I like. I know whats good. But when I moved to London? It became a game of trial and error. Of having to figure this shit out, and it wasn't a fun process. So sure, I now have a favourite lunch place, and a favourite cocktail bar. A favourite thai place, indian place, bakery and on it goes. Food places are easy to figure out.
You know whats less fun? Doctors. Dentists. Hairdressers.
The last one has kicked me in the behind this week. A friend recommended the Toni&Guy Academy which is down the road from work. For 5 quid you let a 3rd year hair dressing student cut your hair. They are supervised, so no real harm done. Hair grows back, right?
I gave what I considered pretty clear instructions (I wanted the length. I wanted it layered. I wanted it thinned out, and some kind of shaping to happen around my face). I got a pretty girl, who looked and sounded like she knew what she was doing. She listened to what I wanted, and then picked a type of cut. She had a sheet of them, and she had to do a certain number of each to pass. She had to explain step by step what she was going to do to her superviser, too. OMW, I had no idea how complicated cutting hair was. It's not an easy task, and I was glad that she was able to remember all of it!
Except, about half way through it became very apparent that the cut she'd picked had nothing to do with what I wanted. Sigh. But no drama done. I let her cut, and then cut some more, cringing as she went. Let me be clear, the haircut? Technically sound. Just not what I wanted.
And I was at a cross road, do I say something or do I keep my mouth shut and do damage control later? About two seconds before I could make a decision she made one for me. The length that I wanted to keep? Yeah, I wasn't keeping it. After that point it became a bit pointless worrying about, and I gave up caring. We chit chatted, and she relaxed a bit after I did. We got to the end of it (where for some really bizarre, completely unknown reason she curled my hair, which made it ridiculously boofy) and I watched her tick off that cut + her supervisor smiled and said it was worth an A. I smiled when I thanked her. And I walked outside. And the moment I was out of eyesight I ran my fingers through it + put it up in a pony tail. You aren't getting a photo of it, sorry. Not even close.
Needless to say I won't be going back there. I have yet to find a cute non-chain boutique type hairdresser. I miss my guy from home! I really wish that finding a decent hairdresser wasn't so difficult. Or finding a dentist that isn't scary, or a doctor who doesn't feel the need to have the 'responsible sex' speech every time I want to talk about birth control side effects. Sorry, TMI?
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm still trying to understand how they do things here. I'm still trying to find what's good, and avoid what's really not. I wish there was an easier way than trial and error. I'll keep you posted on all the disasters that are sure to befall me while I figure it out.
Until then, anyone have any cute up-do tips?