The Man in the Window

Think of us as we find our feet in our new home and how long it will take us to find ‘that bench; for ‘that cup of coffee’ to people watch as we did here!

I love to people watch, and these days if out, there’s not a lot more I can do.
I quite enjoyed myself in town today, watching hundreds of people all nationalities, shapes, and sizes go by, but the person who held my interest was the man in the window.
There was nothing really special or noticeable about him, just that he was sitting in the chair chatting into his mobile phone. I’d put him to be about forty.

As I watched, no-one came to attend to him, so I was naturally curious as to what he was having done, waiting for, or whatever.
Perhaps it would help if I told you he was sitting in a Unisex hairdresser’s window.
After half an hour, he was still there, nothing had changed and I was beginning to think he was one of these ‘hire a customer’ types so that the salon looked busy. The girl in the seat next to him had arrived later and was having her roots done.
From where I was sitting, his hair looked black and very shiny. Judging by the razor sharp lines of his haircut, I presumed that bit had already been done, but if he was having a dye job, why was he being left for so long, especially when he had extremely short hair, almost on the lines of a military buzz cut.

Some 15 minutes later, a member of staff came across to him and led him over to the basin area. I couldn’t see anything, so guess he was being rinsed off. After a few minutes, he was back in the chair, and the girl applied some gel type goo to her hands, smoothed it over the top of his head, and started to blow dry his ‘fuzz’. She even got a small hairbrush and teased the top to stand upright, all 1/8 of an inch of it.
Next, she dabbed something onto a cloth and wiped around his hairline, finally reaching for a pair of clippers to tidy up the job at the sides and the back.

Presto. Finished.

He seemed very happy as he put his glasses on, took the shop cape off, collected his coat and went to the counter to pay.
When he came out, I could see that his hair wasn’t black, but dark brown. I could also see the dye tidemark round his neck and temples, and through his hair to his stained scalp.
I have no idea how long hair dyes take to work these days, but I think the stylist either forgot him or left him too long to ‘set’. When he gets home and sees himself out of the flattering salon lights, he might not be quite so pleased. Of course I don’t know what it looked like before.

Note:
The last time I went to the hairdresser was almost 20 years ago, and I parted with £42 for a cut and blow dry to hair which just touched my collar. It’s half way down my back now, and I cut it myself.
Hubby invested in a set of clippers and attachments and cuts his own too. He has a ‘wash and go’ cut. He washes it in the shower and by the time he’s dried himself and got dressed, it’s dry and ready to go.

This guy had no more hair on his head than Hubby has, so I’m wondering exactly what it was she blow dried and teased. I can’t begin to guess how much he paid for it either.

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