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I looked at the hairdressing salon across the street. A woman had just stepped out.

She was wearing her hair in a typical bouffant style. I paused for a moment and thought about my own appearance and looked at my reflection in the window.  I could just make out my own reflection in a nearby window. The smart coat was very 6os.

I looked at the scarf draped over my own hair which was pulled back into a ponytail. Almost in a dream I found myself walking up to the door and pushing it open to find my senses assailed by the noise of dryers and the scent of shampoo and hairspray. The salon was quite small and was very busy. There must have been five or six stylists working

 

I  was suddenly nervous and started to turn to leave the salon but the woman behind the desk had seen me and looked up to speak. “Hello, may I help you?” I forced a smile. “Erm, er I wondered if I could make an appointment?” She smiled at me.

“Of course Madam although if you need your hair doing now” she studied the scarf over my hair “Mrs King the manageress will be available in a few moments.” I wanted to rush from the salon, to run but my feet betrayed me. The receptionist took my pause as consent and walked around to take my jacket before slipping a gown over my shoulders. Incongruously she left the scarf over my hair. I sat in front of the window and tried to work out which was Mrs King. A woman with an impressive bouffant was just finishing heavily spraying her client.

 Moments later she had degowned and shown the lady to the desk and was  standing on front of me. She looked to be in her forties. She was immaculately presented with her own hair cut in a blonde bouffant. She smiled and introduced herself as Mrs King. I answered my name was Karen, Karen Reeves and she led me to a chair in front of the mirror. She untied the scarf and lifted it from my lank bleached locks, tutting a little to herself. She immediately picked up a brush and began to run it through my hair. “Up or down?” She said as she brushed. I looked at her in the mirror.

“S-sorry?”

“Do you want your hair putting up? Beehive perhaps?”

“Er no, no thank you. I don’t want my hair up…”

“Oh” She smiled. “Looking for something of a change then?” I returned the smile.”Its time you had it cut you know, its much easier than having it up, you’ll love it…” I didn’t really want my hair cutting but had to look more period. “Erm do you have any suggestions?” I asked. She smiled “You need a good bubble cut and a set for some lift and body.” I found myself nodding.

“You want bouffant, lots of bouffant, sophisticated lady like you” I smiled at the complement.

 “Now you just relax…I’m going to give you a nice bubble cut then give you a set and a lovely glam dress out. leave the bubble a little longer over the sides…” She combed up a tress from the side and held it out. My hair was about ten or eleven inches long. “Now a short bubble is one inch at the side so if I leave you three…” schnick, she cropped through the tress and I stared in horror as most of it fell onto the cape. “That will leave you more than enough.” She combed up another layer. Schnick. This too was cropped through. “You’ll love having shorter hair” she said as she worked and I watched terrified as my long tresses were cropped away. “I’m going to leave you with about seven inches through the top so we can get lots of height but take it closer into the back and sides but still leave it longer than a normal bubble so you won’t feel too bare…” I forced a nervous smile as another lengthy blonde tress fell. At last she seemed to be happy with the slaughtered remains of my hair and I was escorted over to the sinks where another girl gave me a thorough wash.

I returned to the mirror and once my hair was dabbed dry the second stylist working in taciturn silence began to comb a musky scented setting lotion through my hair before carefully winding in a mass of rollers. As she worked lower down she changed to pincurls, each tress being thoroughly soaked with lotion. 

With all of the rollers in place she popped a net over the entire ensemble then slipped earpads underneath. She led me to the dryers where I was soon installed with a couple of magazines. I settled down to wait for my hair to dry.

I stared into the mirror. She had brushed the curls almost out of my hair but she picked up the tail comb. She smiled as she began to lift and tease the top, backcombing furiously.

She continued to backcomb, ratting the hair on top until it towered over me, higher even than her own bouffant. “You need lots and lots of height, especially since we have cut you shorter – still give the volume of a beehive and not leaving you feeling shorn.” I stared in amazement as she backcombed so swiftly and expertly teasing and ratting my hair into a tangle mound.

She smoothed and coaxed my hair into a towering bouffant top then took time to ease, poke and press the rest into elaborate swirls. She picked up a small squeezy bottle. Sssss, ssss, sss, sssss. Her hand worked rapidly squeezing the bottle and generating a fine mist of scented spray which fell onto my hair.

 

Sssss. Sssss. Ssssss. She continued to spray as she moved the bottle around my new hairstyle. I could see in the mirror the way the spray soaked my hair leaving it shining under the salon lights. Ssssss, sssssss, ssssss. She carefully sprayed all of the bouffant from the back then moved around to the front. Sssssss, ssssss, sssss. Around my head the mist soaking my tresses. She paused and wafted her hand through the cloud of droplets in the air around my head then gently pressed onto my locks. I noticed how where she pressed the hair moved as a mass – glued together by the spray into a mat of ratted hair.

 She smiled at me in the mirror. “There isn’t that so much better for you.”

 I stared into the mirror and managed to force a smile. She picked up the bottle once more. “Just a bit more lacquer” Sssssss, ssssss, ssssssss. She began at the front and worked all around my head. I closed my eyes as she worked and felt the spray falling onto my tortured tresses. At last she seemed satisfied and stopped spraying to pick up the small mirror to show me my new look.

“I’ve left it quite long for you.” She said as she pulled a couple of glued hairs from the front where they had attracted extra droplets of spray. My hair was hardly any longer than hers but looking around the salon did seem to be longer than all of the stylists and other clients there. “With you bleaching though you really need to go shorter still – now your roots are OK but should we make you an appointment to have the colour done in a couple of weeks?“ I grunted in surprise. “And we might then think about taking it  a bit shorter at the sides and back, you’ll be sued to the shorter hair by then.” She folded the comb out cape she had removed from my shoulders and called for an assistant. “Janine can you make Mrs Reeves an appointment for a shampoo and set for next week please and then book her for a bleach  the week after.” She was rewarded with a smile at “Yes Mrs King”. I stood up to follow, a tentative hand straying to my hair which was locked absolutely rigid. I forced a smile and murmered. “Thank you very much”. She beamed.

“You’re welcome. See you next week…”

I returned the following week as arranged. I had surprisingly got used to my hair and was almost looking forward to my appointment as I was feeling untidy. The salon was the same busy hive of activity as I was relieved of my coat and shown to Mrs Kings chair. “Hello Mrs Reeves, how are you today…” she didn’t wait for my reply but followed this with “shampoo and set today…” I smiled at her in the mirror. “I’m going out tonight and want to look my best…”

“Oh well we must try just a little bit harder for you today then…” she answered. “Now let’s get you shampooed…”

I was led over to the sinks by the apprentice who shampooed my hair thoroughly. Mrs King came over and stood looking down at me. “What colour gown are you wearng tonight Mrs Reeves” she asked. “Erm it’s a little black number” I answered confused. She smiled.

“Give Mrs Reeves a champagne rinse please Janine that will tone nicely with her gown…” What did she mean a champagne rinse? I was to find out as Janine busied herself with a bottle and worked more on my hair. Soon I was returned to the mirror and as the towel was removed I was able to see that my hair was  now a soft shade of pink. I stared at it in amazement as Mrs King began to run setting lotion through my locks. At last I could contain myself no more. “Erm my hair is pink” I said almost casually. She grinned. “Isn’t it great. It will wash out so we can still touch up your colour next week. You must try blue or lilac next time…”  She looked at Janine – “Mrs Reeves has a Lyric Set Janine but as she is going out I think it needs to be a little fuller through the top and higher at the sides.” The assistant smiled and nodded. She unfolded a large display book in front of me and I looked at the “Lyric” style. It was indeed similar to my ‘do last time.

 I looked at the pictures as she eased a wide toothed comb through my damp tresses. There was another shot of the Lyric, this time with some other models and the famous stylist Mr Ray.

. Mrs King pointed to the lady in the middle. “Take it a little more like hers Janine with the cute high guiche curls and lots and lots of height on top” She then walked away. Janine slipped the scissors from her pocket and before I could say anything she was trimming away at my fringe, pinky tresses tumbling onto the smock. I stared in horror as she trimmed more from the sides, not a lot maybe an inch or two but enough to subtly change the shape of the style. Finally the back. I felt the comb pressed into my nape as she pushed my head forwards. She was almost finished as Mrs King returned. “What are you doing Janine?” 

“Erm er cutting it a little shorter so it fitted the other style…” She flipped over the page and showed us both another look. This was very similar to the brunette in the picture.

The cutting diagram next to it showed it was indeed a little shorter – I stared at the nape which was marked as 0! “Janine, Mrs Reeves is my client and I cut her hair. You’ve given her a short bubble, she is only just getting used to the long bubble – I cut her hair off last week…still we can’t stick it back on you had better go ahead and finish the set. “ Suitably chastised Janine began to wind in the rollers. Twisting them in tightly and anchoring them to my scalp. Soon my head was clustered with big rollers on top and wave clip clamped pincurls around the back and sides. A net was fastened tightly in place. With ear pads slipped under I was whisked away under the drier.

After thirty minutes I was retunred to the chair. Mrs King herself came to do my comb out. The net and rollers were speedily removed and she began her visrtouso performance of first brushing out the curls then heavily backcombing the top. Through a regular mist of of spraying, combing, teasing and primping I was soon  left staring at the glamorous pink, bouffant confection.

.

Sssssssss, sssss, ssssss,ssssss. She sprayed and sprayed for what seemed like minutes, soaking my hair with lacquer. Under the salon lights my hair looked stiff and rigid and shone dully, clearly pink now rather than my blonde. At last she was finished and showed me around my new coiffure. The small mirror showed me how my nape had been cropped very short. The sides now just covered my ears but Janine had set them into upswept curls. I had thought of myself with medium hair now it seemed I was short haired even though the huge climbing bouffant made it look much bigger. I thanked Mrs King and was soon slipping on my coat and collecting my little dog. I paid the bill and made to leave the salon. “Bleaching next week Mrs Reeves” she said as I walked out.

I caught my reflection in a shop window and experimentally poked at my hair. This hairdo looked more like candyfloss than silky tresses and felt stiff and a little sticky from all the spray. It was however a classic 1963 coiffure and I felt so glam in my new coat.  I smiled to myself and continued on my way.

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