I entered the hair salon, in search for a manicure service. And then, a surprise. For the first time I could witness, alive, the last moments of a forty-something year old woman being buzzed to zero. The hairdresser was methodically moving the clippers on her scalp. Around her, lots of hair on the floor.
It wouldn't be polite to observe attentively. I could just have quick glipses of the process. No conversation between client and the female stylist, both had a neutral face.
The manicure drove me to an armchair at an area not accessible to my eyes, facing the shampoo basins, not the styling chairs. Three minutes later, right in front of me, the woman sits to have her head shampooed. The stylist spent several minutes massaging her hairless scalp, fingertips alternating between gentle sliding and pressing some points, as the forehead.
I hope that was not a cancer headshave, I prefer to imagine, instead, that the headshave was just a statement of any kind to the world or to herself...
Posted by Harriet.
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