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| Today |
I can't remember the last time I went seven weeks between haircuts. Maybe back in Greece in 2022, but if not then ... maybe twenty years? More?
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| Hair styling was not a priority in the summer of 2022 |
It's a controversial subject, because while I (obviously) prefer short hair, both because it's far less prone to bed-head and hat-head and because I simply think it looks better, pretty much all the women in my life, whose taste I inevitably prefer to my own, insist it looks better long. But ... ugh, hair over the ears, hair sticking in weird positions, etc.
I mean, it's not even that long, obviously. Imagine if I went another month! I shudder to think.
When I lived in Prague from 2014-2017, I went to a hairdresser's about four or five blocks away, where Zuzanna, who became quite familiar with my hair-styling wishes, consistently gave me the haircut I wanted. Indeed, as her style was to wash my hair both before and after the haircut, and as I am a sucker for getting my hair professionally washed, I loooked forward to these appointments with great enthusiasm.
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| Me with a Zuzanna-haircut in 2015 |
She moved to another place four or five months before I left Prague, though, and although her replacements were fine, it wasn't the same.
When I moved back to Prague this December, though, Filip — who was, once, in the special-medicated-shampoo-selling business, and thus was fairly attuned to hairdressers in the neighborhood — mentioned that he believed Zuzanna's new boutique was somewhere in our neighborhood, though he didn't know exactly where. So, needing a haircut, immediately after signing my lease on December 10, 2024, I headed out in the direction he had vaguely waved at.
I didn't find her, but I found one of the "hip" men's barbershops that have proliferated in recent years, with "flair" on the walls and an ethic that says "come and pretend you're living in small-town America in the 1950s, but the barbers all have perfectly-groomed beards and are in their 20s and will charge you $45 for a 15-minute haircut."
I shrugged and went in, and indeed, got a perfectly good haircut.
But it wasn't what I wanted. So on Monday this week, unable to put it off any longer in deference to my female friends' wishes, I walked down my street again, and buzzed at the first hairdressers' I saw (ignoring the "hip" barbershop right next door). Who opened the door but Zuzanna, who recognized me immediately! Pretty impressive, for someone she hasn't seen in over eight years, and had no reason to expect. I asked for an appointment, and she said her next availability was next Monday, an entire week away!
I hemmed and hawed, but I finally decided I could allow the hair to grow for one more week — and if it reached the floor in that time I would just tuck it in my shoes.
So it'll be a big week next week: Monday I have a business meeting with Ales where we expect to see full beta versions of our big product, then haircut-with-Zuzanna. Thursday all my things arrive from the US, and I'll spend the next few days unpacking, arranging, and making my current "apartment" a home. And then the following Monday I expect to hear about my visa application, which will determine if I'll be staying here or leaving the Schengen zone to set up shop somewhere else (Thailand? Zanzibar? Jamaica? Norway? England?) for three months, during the appeal process.
But it starts on Monday, with a haircut. Thank goodness. Man, I need it.
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| Groomed David, 2017 |
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