I'm blonde. I have been for about 10 years since I started highlighting and messing with my hair. My natural color is just a bit darker than that but in my opinion is pretty blah and drab and that's why I started to lighten it up sophomore year of high school. That went great until right before my senior picture was taken when I momentarily lost my mind and trusted my oh-so-expensive hairstylist in Beverly Hills that I would look "awesome" with dark dark brown hair. That picture will always remain framed in my mom's house so I am consistently reminded of my mistake. Soon after, I immediately went back to blonde.
I've had a variety of hairdressers in the last 10 years. Through high school until my freshman year of college I went to the Beverly Hills stylist where I was spending upwards of $200 (of my own money!!!) to get my hair done every 7 weeks. WTF was I thinking I want to know. Sophomore year in college I got a killer job as a "salon coordinator" or glorified receptionist at a great upscale salon. That meant I was paid, got discounts on amazing hair products and also - got my hair done for free. As often as I wanted. That is why no matter how drunk or fat or bloated I look in all of my college pics, at least my hair looked good.
When I moved back to LA, I was on a constant search for a good hairdresser. I went to a new one almost every three times - never satisfied with either the price (I got spoiled getting it done for free) or most of the time, the result.
About a year ago I found Lily. She was very reasonably priced, could always get me in at a moment's notice, and I always walked out looking good. But never anything special or magical happened in her chair. I walked in, got my roots done, and a trim, and walked out. Most people could never even tell I had been at the hairdresser's and yes, that includes my boyfriend who always notices when I change something.
Lily left a few weeks ago for a month and a half and I needed my hair done badly. I called the salon, and the set me up with a lady that would give me the same price. I wasn't even nervous. I just figured, how hard can a half a head of straight hair highlights be? The woman gave me a bad impression from the get-go. She was one of those women with a constant sour face - you know, the Renee Zelwegger thing where it looks like they are sucking on a lemon at all times. She didn't really give a shit about what I wanted. She just went for it and I actually had to stop her from highlighting my whole head - as if she couldn't tell that half my hair is a different color.
When I walked back over to the chair after getting it washed I almost had to hold back tears. There was so much bleach that bled (meaning, leaked out of the foils so it just looked like blotches) all over my head. I literally looked like I had bald patches everywhere. She started to cut it in the most erratic way i had ever seen someone cut hair. Scissors flying, hair pushed aside. People, I was literally shaking inside. And for the first time, I didn't complain - I didn't say a word. Because the last thing I wanted to do was have this woman try to fix anything. I paid her the amount with not one dollar tip. And I ran.
My sister was supposed to get her hair done by the same lady over the weekend and I immediately called her and told her not to. For the first time in a long time, I didn't care how much I was gonna have to pay - I wanted to go to the best best hair colorist out here. My sister used to live next door to a fancy shmancy hair salon owner and we called him and made our appointments. I'm just about to go to mine. Cross your fingers that it turns out good!
