The first haircut.

Buon giorno mi amici.


Trying to make a decision on whom to allow to cut one's hair is quite interesting in Florence.   My friend and I stumbled upon an Aveda Salon on our way back from the Uffizi gallery last week and given she suggested she got a good vibe from the young man who greeted us at the door we were certain this might be a good place to get our haircuts.


Yesterday was the day and the shop opened at 11am.  We had about a half hour wait and then the young woman who was to cut my hair could not speak English and as I went first...an older short and hyper man was free and of course he spoke English but was so intense I thought he was going to have a stroke...that should have been my first clue.  After a wonderful scalp massage with Aveda tangerine oil and a great shampoo by the lovely girl who greeted us when we first came in and poured us each a cup of tea, I was escorted to a chair where I met Oliver.  He didn't think I could pronounce his name so he suggested I called him Oliver.  I explained what it was I wanted and he indicated to let him know if he pushes my head too hard while cutting my hair.  He was very rough.  At one point he stopped and said "Anka .. do not be worried...everything is in control" at which point I let out this loud laugh.  He kept digging the teeth of the comb into my scalp.  As he cut I could hear my hair grind between the blades of the scissors.  Every so often he would need to stop as the scissors would come apart and he would have to screw them back together.  I began to worry.  I contemplated asking him to stop and eventually the torture came to an end.  The one part that grossed me out when was he blew into my face to blow the hairs away from my face....I thought I was going to throw up.  Then he plugs in the hairdryer and starts to blow-dry my hair.  Once he was satisfied he pulls out this white plug in thing that looked like a straightening iron and it had ceramic plates.  I told him I did not want that and he insisted that it would make my hair shiny.  He grabbed a strand of my hair and I could see the heat wave coming from my head.  I asked him to stop.  He persisted saying it cost 200 Quid to buy this thing.  Then I could smell hair burning and I said "NO" and I got up and said ... you are finished no more.  My other friend was done and our third friend was just getting her hair washed and she made sure he was not cutting her hair.  My hair was flat and looked like it was pasted to my head.  The cut was not too bad but I had to go to the bathroom and wet it so that I could sweep it off my face.  Will I go to Aveda in Florence again....nope.  Next cut will be with my favourite stylist in Oakville.   It is always advantageous to check with someone in the know before walking into a salon .... no matter what the name.  Ciao!