"So what are we having done today?" I'm sat in the hairdressers chair, and she asks me the dreaded question - Ive calculated that since my mum stopped cutting my hair when I was 20, if Ive had my hair cut on average every 8 weeks, I have been asked this question at least 195 times! and the answer is always the same - " I don't know, what do you think? " I sit in the chair - hating every minute - forced to stare at a baggy old saggy face that doesn't reflect the "girl" that I still am. I feel like an idiot - I never know whether the gown goes on like a coat, or the other way round. She snips away, to be fair, she cuts it very well, but then blow dries it so I look like Audrey Roberts!!. It looks a bit different each time she cuts it, but then I get home and wash and dry it, and it looks exactly the same as it did before I went - only shorter.
Its Friday night. My hairdresser and I are the same age, and we reminisce that this time 30 years ago we would have been getting ready for a night on the town. I tell her my routine. I would play Alexander O'Neil or Luther Vandross whilst quaffing a glass of Lambrusco - drying my hair upside down for maximum volume. We laugh at all the nightclubs we frequented - The Hoffbrau house (best night out ever - dancing on the tables to the Ooompah Band and drinking Steins !) Josephines (always the hen night destination), Roof Top Gardens in Wakefield (always on a minibus ), The Wappentake (dead rough - my hairdresser was a biker chick), The Amsterdam Bar in Huddersfield (featured in "Rita, Sue and Bob too!!!) none of them still in existence. We discuss how it never entered your head that someone might be carrying a knife, and that we didn't need "drugs" - a Cherry B or Pony (the little drink with the big kick - tasted like Benolyn!) were strong enough. You never saw people sprawled out on the pavement like you do these days - your mates saw you home if you were ill! We conclude that they were the "best days" and that our kids don't have it as "fun" as we did. I get home and "The Best of Sade" courtesy of Play.com has landed on my door mat. I run a bath, pour a nice glass of red, and dance around the bedroom to "Smooth Operator" singing in front of the mirror - into my hairbrush - as you do! I might not be donning my glad rags for a night painting the town red, but I am still very much in touch with my "inner girl".