A Haircut

One thing about an extended trip such as ours is that we have to do some normal, everyday things that generally get skipped on a vacation. Today, I got a haircut. I admit that I had been kind of dreading it, since I’ve been going to the same barber shop back home for twenty years and I just knew that it would be different here.

First, there are no barber shops here. Hair salons – les coiffures – are for men and women.

Second, oddly enough, they don’t speak English in them like back in Renton. So I talked with our friend Mary who gave me an idea of how it would go, and off we went (Laurie went along, since she wanted to share the adventure; also, she is better than me at hearing French).

Third, no such luck as to be able to walk in and get une coupe. Gotta make an appointment for midi et trant, go back home, then return to Le Coiffure (the actual name of the place) at 30 minutes (trant) after noon (midi).

We did just that, returning right at 12:30. I waited a few minutes, as there was only one woman doing the cutting and she was just finishing up with a woman. Then, a shampoo (never had that in Renton) and into the chair. Fortunately, Mary had said the woman would ask me how I wanted it cut and sure enough, she did. I had prepared an answer, gave it to her and – miracle of miracles! – she understood. She asked me a couple more questions about how short I wanted it and so forth, got out her tools and had at it.

I don’t know how to describe the difference between a haircut in Renton and the haircut today. In Renton, my barber (also a woman) cuts away, talks to me, talks to others in the shop and pretty quickly, I’m out the door. The woman today worked as if she were painting a work of art – she concentrated on every clip of the scissors, she did this ‘n’ that, she trimmed here and there, went back to “touch up” some areas, all the time giving it her total concentration. It was really enjoyable to watch her do her work.

Last thing: she used a straight razor to clean up around my ears and sideburns; I tried to remember the last time a barber used a straight razor on my haircut and I can’t think when it was, but surely thirty years ago.

She finished, brushed me off and said, of course, “Voila!” I paid her (just a little more than my Renton haircut) and Laurie and I left in a flurry of merci’s and au revoirs.

Haircuts have always seemed to me to be a necessary evil – they’re just something you have to do. Honestly, today I left Le Coiffure looking forward to when I need another one. And glad to have done another everyday thing here in Montigny-sur-Loing; we came here to live like the French; surely getting a haircut is about as mundane and everyday as can be.