Well, this is quite the surreal experience! Standing outside my own version of the Sweet Shop, I restrained myself from pressing my face to the glass, although I’ll admit I was tempted. I’ve waited for this moment for what seems like a very long time.
The sign in the doorway was very clear with its big “No Entry” sign. The rest of the blackboard was friendlier – please wear a mask, stand to the right, if there is more than one person in the queue, please wait at least one metre apart.
The smell, though! The mix of hairspray and high-end shampoo is I hope one of the divine scents on offer in Heaven, if I ever get there. It’s solidarity, sisterhood, friendliness, pampering all in one, wafting through the doors. If you know, you know. Across the threshold, it isn’t all that different from how I remember it, although my stylist looks readier to operate that she has done in the past. It’s been so long since my last visit, who knows, perhaps this is exactly what is required to tackle my mop!
It is quieter than before. I love the buzz of the salon on a Saturday, when I normally come. So perhaps a Friday afternoon is always like this (although my stylist suggests otherwise). Furlough leave means that I have the chance to experience a non-weekend appointment. There is no-one sitting beside me, no-one waiting on the grey chairs with the magazines. No Hello! or OK! I can’t hear the sound of hairdryers today, just the music from the speaker high above my head.
It might feel ‘exclusive’ save for the rather fetching disposable blue face accessory covering all my features bar my eyes and my train-track wrinkles. And the lack of complimentary tea and biscuits. I’ll miss the head massage when the colour comes off my hair, that’s for sure. Yet I’m having a wonderful afternoon. It’s time out by myself, for myself, with no hidden agenda, nothing else I should be doing. And for a few short hours when I walk back out onto the High Street in the sunshine, I will be beautiful.
I’m booking my next appointment now.
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