Asian Hair

I went out with my cousin Roz (to a great place called Josie's on the UWS) and commented how much I loved her new haircut.  "Thanks", said she, "I got it done by a guy name Alvin at Salon de Tops in Chinatown!" "Sign me up", I said.

So I called this morning and got an appointment with Alvin for this evening and when the time came I trekked down to Chinatown for my haircut.  Running late as usual, I stream into the salon 10 minutes after my appointment time, read a sign that there is a cash only policy at the salon, and ask the receptionist where the nearest ATM is and whether or not I have enough time to go get cash before my haircut.  We have difficulty understanding each other.  And then it dawns on me...I'm at a salon where everyone prefers to speak a language other than English, and I am about to get my haircut.

I get the cash.  A man comes up to me and beckons me with gestures to take off my coat, which he politely hangs up, and leads me over to get my hair washed.  He speaks nothing to me the entire time.  Is this Alvin, I wonder?    I'm enjoying the scalp massage, and the icy mint product he puts on my hair, but I start to wonder how I'm going to attempt a discussion with this gentlemen regarding his opinion on whether or not I should get bangs.   Oh dear.

But I am saved.  This kind but mute man delivers me to a chair where another man comes up and says hello to me.  I ask, 'Are you Alvin?'  He doesn't answer.  I say a little louder, a little slower, 'Are you Alvin?'.  He looks at me funny.  'Yes, I'm Alvin.  What to do with your hair today?'  And so we begin.

Truth is, I didn't have any idea what I wanted my hair to look like, I was just sick of it hanging like a dead animal around my head and wanted something that would stand up a bit better to the rain/snow/hat on/hat off/sleet/wind that I'm preparing to endure in the coming months.  I said something about wanting long sweeping bangs and some more layers but that I wanted to keep it long and he says, "OK" --and then starts to chop 3-4 inches off my hair. 

I just wanted to close my eyes and not watch him lop off inches, so it was a silent kind of haircut.  My philosoph is that once you sit in the chair and the cutting starts, best to let them go to town then to second guess them mid-cut-- you might end up with an unintentional mullet.  But my apprehension must have showed.  He did ask me, "First time getting Chinese haircut?  You nervous?" to which I gave him my best sly smile and answered, "I trust you".  Which might have been true.

He finished up by putting some styling product on my hair, and asked me, 'do you like it?'  I looked impartially and said a sincere but sedate 'yes', smiled, paid and left.  I rushed home, sneaking peaks at myself in the reflections of the subway window the entire time.  Once home, I assessed the situation-- did I like it?   Truth is, he gave me a haircut that was probably the most funky I've ever had to date (which, I know you're all groaning, is not that funky)--more uneven fringe, less curl, more blunt and edgy.   You know, more New York.  Any maybe a bit Chinatown.