Funky Toque

I was startled to realize today that I have a hairdresser.

...It all started about a month ago, just after I came home from my amazing trip to Greece and Turkey. I'd been absolutely fed up with my over-grown, thick, damaged hair in Turkey and was just about ready for a drastic change. So jet-lagged, clearly unable to make proper decisions, I stride into a very trendy salon (with great student discounts) called Funky Toque.

I announce triumphantly that I would like a haircut, immediately if possible. This is a big deal. I hardly ever bother getting a proper haircut. I can't stop staring at the woman, who is the very image of trendiness: her hair is short, spiked, and dyed white and blonde. Even her eyebrows match. She is not fascinted by me however, and barely glances over her magazine as she mumbles that David will take me.

That's when I turn around and am faced with David-- who, yes, has great hair-- my fabulous, flamboyantly gay hairdresser.
"Hellooo darling! Come over here and let's discuss where you want to go with your hair for ten minutes."
I stand back, aghast. Discuss? It's hair. I don't know what to do with it!
"Honestly... go wild. You're the one who cuts hair!"
To my horror, I saw his eyes shine with excitement, and I realized it was too late to that it back. Seconds later, I was strapped into his chair, as he brandished a myriad of scissors, razors, spray bottles and gels. Round eyed, I explained that I never cut my hair, let alone brush it.
"Don't worry," he cooed, "this will look even better if you don't brush it."
I just gulp. David takes advantage of this quiet moment to spill out his life story to me. There's never a dull moment in his chair!

"So, I had my heart broken the other day. There's this guy-- perfect, spend the rest of my life with-- kind of guy. I was crazy about him. The only problem is, he's straight."
"Oh no! I hate it when that happens!"
"Yeah..." He heaves a monumental sigh and snips off a dangerously large piece of hair.
"How did you find out?"
"When I kissed him!"

So today, I went back to Funky Toque for a quick bang trim (they're so cheap!). I'm sent off to a hairdresser, who sits me down in his chair. As I'm sitting, I see David, who recgonizes me and says hi. My hairdresser just blanches and says "She's yours?" and sends me off to get my hair cut by him.

Once again I am subjected to the whirlwind that is David. He quickly snips at my bangs, musses up my hair, proceeds to tell me about a great place for first dates, and finishes off with:
"So when school starts you'll come back to get a proper haircut, mmkay?" Before I can respond, he's gone, with a flick of his hand and a "Ciao, bella!".