Premium
This is an archive article published on May 19, 2010

Something Old,Something New

When you get a certain age and holidays are less about shopping and partying and more about newer experiences,you decide to save your next haircut for when you are abroad.

When you get a certain age and holidays are less about shopping and partying and more about newer experiences,you decide to save your next haircut for when you are abroad. I used the same logic when I booked tickets for The Lion King at the Lyceum for the baby and I; I mean,how many toys can an almost-four-year-old have? (Besides Hamleys is quite the Made in China emporium it claims not to be.)

Even before I left for London,I had begun to ask friends who spent their summers there for recommendations. Simon at Gloucester Road’s Toni & Guy or Patrick at Rush. Rush won as it was just across the pretty street I lived on and I booked myself with Ryan,their Style Director (which is just one rung above a trainee).

Hairdressers are a lot like fashion designers,the kookier you dress,the more talented you are perceived to be. In that,Ryan — tattoo behind the ear,jeans worn exactly at mid-bum and super-gay — was so obviously brilliant.

Women’s magazines claim your relationship with your hairdresser is the most intimate relationship you will have,after your shrink. The fact that the element of touch is involved,it establishes an instant bond.

I have a theory; the way you treat your hair says a lot about a person’s character. If you aren’t too fussy about the hairdresser and anyone half-decent will do for you,you are a trusting and confident individual. If you are stuck with the same stylist and the same haircut for over a year (or even five years),you are extremely difficult and afraid of change. If you sit on the salon’s seat and say,“Not too short,but otherwise do what you like,” I’d like to meet you for a drink. Ryan was able and I’m happy with the result. But nowhere close to the fine ladies with dancing scissors at B:Blunt (at one-fifth the price),who I will return to in eight weeks.

I took my just blow-dried mop to Portobello Market for lunch. On my way out,I passed by a homely woman sitting on her porch with a table laid out with her old clothes and wares. A beautiful olive belt with a gold trim and a tortoise buckle caught my eye. “Did you own this?” I asked. She did,she bought it in Paris when she was very young and a size 6,she laughed.

I don’t think I had ever worn a hand-me-down as a child. As a teenager,the idea of sharing clothes with friends didn’t excite me; I thought of myself as way too cool for somebody else’s style. Vintage in fashion just meant old-fashioned,or with pearls and lace and could be bought brand new at Chanel.

Story continues below this ad

I bought the belt. For one pound fifty. And it made me feel very special. I didn’t ask her name and she didn’t ask mine. All I told her was that I was taking it to India,and she said hopefully she would follow it soon. But the idea of sharing a strange woman’s history was unusual and appealing all at once. A natural bond was made. And it involved a beautiful piece of clothing.

namratanow@gmail.com

Stay updated with the latest - Click here to follow us on Instagram

Latest Comment
Post Comment
Read Comments
Advertisement
Loading Taboola...
Advertisement