Sunday, November 18, 2012
sometimes it all comes together....
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Chinese hair cut
I love the Chinese.
This is a controversial statement here in Italy. Everybody here seems to have a love/hate relationship with the Chinese. There's been a huge influx of Chinese immigrants in recent years and a lot of Italians hate this. "They're taking over the city!" "They don't even bother learning Italian!" You hear of lot of the typical anti-immigrant sentiment directed at the Chinese, as they seem to be the only ones with enough liquidity in the midst of this huge italian economic crisis to buy up shops and cafes and hair salons. The Italians seem to resent the hell out them, yet their prices on just about anything can't be beat, so in tough times one can't help but turn toward them for basic needs.
While living in Belgium, my good friend and colleague Meike would cut my hair. She's a neuroscientis who would sometimes turn our lab into her make-shift hair salon. Other times I would buy a bottle of wine and she would come over to my place. We would set up shop in my living/dining room, with a couple of good episodes of our current American TV obsession streaming on the computer, and she would spend a few hours cutting and styling for me. Obviously we would follow this with a night out on the town and a hungover morning of more TV. Those were good times.
Since moving back to Italy, getting my hair cut has been an issue for me. At first I went to a hair salon near my apartment. But the prices kept creeping up every time I went, and I swear my stylist was stoned half the time. Conversation with her was painful. A person can't really be that vapid without having consumed some sort of mind-altering substance. Now, I'm not one to judge people on their extracurricular activities, but when you look and sound all dazed and confused on the job and accidently give me a pixie cut, you can be pretty damn sure I won't be coming back for more.
When the pixie had grown out long enough my friend Silvia gave me a blunt bob. Straight around with straight bangs. It was awesome, but now that my hair is even longer, and because I have so damn much of it, I needed something a bit layered to make the growing-out process a bit more bearable. Silvia told me she can only do straight, worried that layers would be too complicated. After all, she's a graphic artist, not a hair stylist.
But damn, salon prices in Italy are through the roof these days and Alberto and I are not exactly rolling in the dough lately. Today I was at that point where I needed to get my hair cut, NOW. I knew exactly what I wanted. My friend Marta, a few years ago while growing out her short cut, got an awesome layered cut that resembled Joan Jet in some ways. It was cool, rocker-esque, and I've wanted it ever since. Somehow though, I've never had the right length and the Italian stylists were always reluctant to give me what I wanted. Apparntly Joan Jet rockin' layers are not so "in", but since when have I ever cared about following trends?
So today... I went to the only hair salon open in our neighborhood on a Sunday afternoon. The Chinese girl had hair exactly how I want mine to be, long and straight with blunt-cut bangs. I told her I wanted her hair and she laughed, seeing how short mine was. But instantly she took my hair in her hands and, in an Italian I could hardly make out, explained that she would need to put some layers in to make it grow out nicely. I explained my Joan Jet idea and she nodded knowingly and went to work. There was no further conversation. She chatted in Chinese with her colleagues from time to time and we listened to some Chinese pop song they were playing on their sound system. My eyes darted around, looking at the pictures of Chinese people with fashionable hair dos hanging on the wall, as I remembered the words of my vapid stoned Italian stylist "Who knows what type of products they use. I'm always having to fix my clients hair after they try to save some money by going to the Chinese. Just think, once one of my clients decided to try to get her color done at a Chinese salon and her hair started falling out!" Uh huh.
The end product is perfect. Exactly what I wanted. The best part, it only cost 9 Euro. It amazes me sometimes how well communcation works when both parties are foreign and neither is speaking their mother-tongue. There's some sort of all-knowing sympathy that each party has for the other.
So with that, I will say it again. I love the Chinese in Italy. Somehow they make me feel more at home. Friendlier and much less pretentious than their Italian competitors, they've definitley earned a new loyal client.
This is a controversial statement here in Italy. Everybody here seems to have a love/hate relationship with the Chinese. There's been a huge influx of Chinese immigrants in recent years and a lot of Italians hate this. "They're taking over the city!" "They don't even bother learning Italian!" You hear of lot of the typical anti-immigrant sentiment directed at the Chinese, as they seem to be the only ones with enough liquidity in the midst of this huge italian economic crisis to buy up shops and cafes and hair salons. The Italians seem to resent the hell out them, yet their prices on just about anything can't be beat, so in tough times one can't help but turn toward them for basic needs.
While living in Belgium, my good friend and colleague Meike would cut my hair. She's a neuroscientis who would sometimes turn our lab into her make-shift hair salon. Other times I would buy a bottle of wine and she would come over to my place. We would set up shop in my living/dining room, with a couple of good episodes of our current American TV obsession streaming on the computer, and she would spend a few hours cutting and styling for me. Obviously we would follow this with a night out on the town and a hungover morning of more TV. Those were good times.
Since moving back to Italy, getting my hair cut has been an issue for me. At first I went to a hair salon near my apartment. But the prices kept creeping up every time I went, and I swear my stylist was stoned half the time. Conversation with her was painful. A person can't really be that vapid without having consumed some sort of mind-altering substance. Now, I'm not one to judge people on their extracurricular activities, but when you look and sound all dazed and confused on the job and accidently give me a pixie cut, you can be pretty damn sure I won't be coming back for more.
When the pixie had grown out long enough my friend Silvia gave me a blunt bob. Straight around with straight bangs. It was awesome, but now that my hair is even longer, and because I have so damn much of it, I needed something a bit layered to make the growing-out process a bit more bearable. Silvia told me she can only do straight, worried that layers would be too complicated. After all, she's a graphic artist, not a hair stylist.
But damn, salon prices in Italy are through the roof these days and Alberto and I are not exactly rolling in the dough lately. Today I was at that point where I needed to get my hair cut, NOW. I knew exactly what I wanted. My friend Marta, a few years ago while growing out her short cut, got an awesome layered cut that resembled Joan Jet in some ways. It was cool, rocker-esque, and I've wanted it ever since. Somehow though, I've never had the right length and the Italian stylists were always reluctant to give me what I wanted. Apparntly Joan Jet rockin' layers are not so "in", but since when have I ever cared about following trends?
So today... I went to the only hair salon open in our neighborhood on a Sunday afternoon. The Chinese girl had hair exactly how I want mine to be, long and straight with blunt-cut bangs. I told her I wanted her hair and she laughed, seeing how short mine was. But instantly she took my hair in her hands and, in an Italian I could hardly make out, explained that she would need to put some layers in to make it grow out nicely. I explained my Joan Jet idea and she nodded knowingly and went to work. There was no further conversation. She chatted in Chinese with her colleagues from time to time and we listened to some Chinese pop song they were playing on their sound system. My eyes darted around, looking at the pictures of Chinese people with fashionable hair dos hanging on the wall, as I remembered the words of my vapid stoned Italian stylist "Who knows what type of products they use. I'm always having to fix my clients hair after they try to save some money by going to the Chinese. Just think, once one of my clients decided to try to get her color done at a Chinese salon and her hair started falling out!" Uh huh.
The end product is perfect. Exactly what I wanted. The best part, it only cost 9 Euro. It amazes me sometimes how well communcation works when both parties are foreign and neither is speaking their mother-tongue. There's some sort of all-knowing sympathy that each party has for the other.
So with that, I will say it again. I love the Chinese in Italy. Somehow they make me feel more at home. Friendlier and much less pretentious than their Italian competitors, they've definitley earned a new loyal client.
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