Opinion

Why I reach for the scissors myself

4.2.2019

Translation: machine translated

Cutting your own hair can go pretty wrong. But so can a visit to the hairdresser. That's why I choose the lesser of two evils.

I can't cut hair. But that doesn't stop me from grabbing a pair of scissors now and again and giving myself a new haircut. I've been asked why several times. The answer? Complex, but basically my foolhardy behaviour is due to a broad portfolio of unpleasant experiences with different hairdressers.

Let's turn the wheel of time.

It's 2016 and the sun is gently waking me up through the blinds. I rub my eyes and realise that I was dreaming about a pony. The hairstyle, not the horse. Reason enough to spontaneously arrange a hairdressing appointment for the same day before breakfast. When I arrive at the salon, I explain to the "lady of the trade" - she's even the manager - exactly what I have in mind: fringes. As I've already worn a "forehead curtain" several times in the past, I don't even get the idea that things could go wrong. To cut a long story short, what followed was an ultra-awkward bus journey back home, where my mum was already greeting me with hysterical laughter. Oh, and did I mention that even the bus driver allowed himself a comment?

Let's turn the wheel again.

Different year, different hairdresser. I wear my hair long, but make the exemplary decision to have the ends cut. As if by ~~magic~~ Edward's scissor hand, the three centimetres I specified turned into ten.

Turn, turn the cog.

It's 2013, and thanks to series heroes like Paige Matthews from Charmed and Dr Addison Montgomery from Grey's Anatomy, I'm wearing my hair a copper shade. After a few months, I decide to take a few steps towards a natural hair colour. "Natural" is the key word that comes up several times during the preliminary consultation with the hairdresser. She says it's not a problem. I leave the salon with purple hair, an empty wallet and tears in my eyes. My classmates think I look like Leela from "Futurama".

At one point, I also looked a lot like Snape from "Harry Potter". But that's another story.

This was just a little insight into my hair-raising history. I think you can see where my lack of confidence in hairstylists comes from. The quintessence of my story: many hairdressers don't know their trade. Or at least the ones I choose. I have therefore decided that only I am allowed to mess up my hair. I have now found a salon (after 24 years, imagine that!) that I trust. But I will continue to cut my ends myself for the rest of my life.

If you have any hairy horror stories in store, I would be delighted if you could share them with me in the comments column 😉

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Natalie Hemengül

Senior Editor

Natalie.Hemenguel@digitecgalaxus.ch

As a massive Disney fan, I see the world through rose-tinted glasses. I worship series from the 90s and consider mermaids a religion. When I’m not dancing in glitter rain, I’m either hanging out at pyjama parties or sitting at my make-up table. P.S. I love you, bacon, garlic and onions.

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