3 Tons of Fun and the Coke Head!

Hairstylist much like fashion designers can be quite bitchy and fiercely competitive creatures. This past Sunday hubby and I were invited to attend the Trend Vision South African Finals of which our hairstylist was a finalist. If you put a bunch of hairstylist together in one room under stressful conditions and throw alcohol into the mix it can only lead to one thing – a party and tons of fun!!!

Our stylist have been preparing for this competition for the last nine months, working tirelessly to perfect his colour and cut and hubby was commissioned to design the outfit that would complete the final look. Months of planning, stress and hard work would culminate into this one day of judging and a final runway show that would determine who would win and have the honor to compete at the International finals in Berlin Germany later this year.
On arrival at the hotel the staff immediately knew that we were part of the Wella Group Booking, I think the blond and the black Mohawks pretty much gave us away. We settled into our quirky room waiting to hook up with our stylist, his wife and their model. Upon their arrival our stylist was slightly boozed up already, and as his wife pointed out that you could tell he was tipsy by his wondering left eye. We had a few glasses as champagne before they disappeared for the final rehearsal. The model was instructed to intimidate all the other models as only she can. Earlier that day two woman were talking about her in hearing distance and said she was beautiful, tactful as she is she turned to them with a polite smile saying “yes, I am” – you cannot buy self-confidence like that!
An hour before the show was scheduled to start hubby and I and the rest of the “poofter possy” decided to queue in front of the door, as there were no reserved seats. The moment that door opened a mini stamped ensued as we were all elbowing people out of the way and recklessly throwing our tickets at the staff as we rushed to claim the best seats in the house. Settling into our front row seats the show started. We were entertained with a trapeze act and a cabaret show by three obese ladies appropriately named “3 Tons of Fun”. When our stylist model emerged from a cloud of smoke my jaw dropped with amazement. They truly saved the best for last. Our stylist nailed it, and the model burned up that runway with oozing self-confidence and dramatic flare.

After being wowed, the talented 3 tons of lard entertained with a few more melodies. After what felt like an eternity the 3 whales left the stage just before it could buckle and the results was announced. When it came to our stylist’s category my hands were sweating and I could hear my heart beat in chest. Our stylist was sitting in a strained attention with his wife tucked into his arm. When the words “and the winner is” was uttered a dramatic paused followed with the whole of the poofter possy softly vocalizing our stylist’s name. Then our stylist’s name graced the announcer’s lips and nine months of hard work finally paid off – triumph!!!
Then the party started and alcohol flowed. Many congratulations and drinks came my stylist way and the odd bitchy remarks by sore losers could not be avoided. As we all got juiced up some other people got high. Two ladies in particular seemed to have enjoyed their little white powders too much and they were obviously in an altered state of reality. One coke head introduced herself to me as the “fairy princess” and the other one had an inappropriate relationship with a white feather. The most amusing part was one of the salon staff members who loves her tequila (as do I) who didn’t want to go home and kept on hiding behind hubby and I and at one stage leopard crawling to the bar thinking her boyfriend (who was responsible and did not drink) would not see her. Well he did, allowed her one more tequila and then very diplomatically took her drunken ass home. Naturally, after they kicked us out of the venue at midnight we took the party to the hotel. Hubby missed a few steps on our way there to the great amusement of the group. The model said that if they won she would streak through the hotel and the stylist would join her wearing her bra. So guess what, she did! I accompanied the two crazy semi-naked people through 3 floors of the hotel. Strangely enough even in his drunken state my stylist noticed the CCTV cameras and was worried security would kick us out. Personally, I think the people in the security control room had loads of fun watching our antics and that the security video should be on YouTube soon. At least I had all my clothes on and nobody was “technically” naked, but indecent we were indeed.

After a couple of hours sleep it was time to check out. Tequila and their friends left quite a mess in my head after their party and I felt like death warmed up. Protected by my sunglasses I proceeded to settle our account. The hotel seemed brighter than usual and the staff and their little gadgets excessively loud and abrasive. After forcing some food into my body and a strong cup of coffee, we were on our way home where I spent the better part of the day nursing my hang-over.

Looking back on the competition and the party we had, I am tremendously proud of our stylist for winning and being a representative of South Africa’s best talent abroad in Berlin. I am sure he and his team will do us proud. The only draw back is that we aren’t going with and hubby’s fashion creations seems to travel more than he does; having been to London, Milan, Paris and now Berlin. Concerning the party, it was great fun but once a year is quite enough as anymore would definitely lead to my liver asking for a bail out.

Till next time.


BLACK BRIDE SEBASTIAN NORWAY

The breakup

Some who read my blog may think that I am obsessed with my appearance. Taking pride in the way I present myself to the world should not be misconstrued with obsession. I am no oil painting and achieving a presentable appearance is not an easy feat; this is achieved by having a good hair stylist, cosmetologist and my husband’s fashion advice. Not being a morning person, small children and some domesticated animals may take fright if they are misfortunate enough to have a glimpse of me at sunrise.

Recently, my hairstylist of 5 years told me she was moving to London. The news shocked me. I was among many of her loyal clients who had an adverse reaction to this unwelcome news. It felt like I was being broken up with, my stomach turned and I was flustered having to face an uncertain future regarding my hair. I knew my stylist since she was an appetence at the salon (I have been a loyal customer there for the past 8 years). I saw her develop into an exceptional hairstylist who also has been rewarded accolades for her talent and devotion to her craft. The prospect of losing her and not being able to find someone that could live up to her standard was disheartening. Furthermore, I was faced with the difficult decision whether I would stay at the salon or leave. Leaving would be like cheating, eventually culminating in a divorce of sorts from a group of people who became like family to me from the shampoo girls, the stylists to the owner.

Not dealing well with breakups, I shaved my hair. Work was part of the reason why the hair had to go, but the secondary motivation was to buy time before I had to make my decision. I do not look good as a skin head, the word “convict” comes to mind. My hair could not grow back quick enough. The touch-ups I needed during the initial re-growth and the ghastliness of the barber shop was too much for me to endure: the barber’s skill is limited to one hair style; they do not brush away the previous client’s hair; and I feared getting dandruff or some hair and/or sculpt disease. I was starting to pine for the comforts of a salon, intelligent conversation, juicy gossip and a professional hair cut.

As luck would have it my husband befriended a husband and wife team of stylist, he met through work. We had dinner with them one evening at which point I decided to take the plunge and entrust my hair to them. A week later I made my first appointment. An hour before I was to arrive, feeling nervous and stressed, I almost cancelled twice. I do not like change! Anyone who cares about their hair would know going to a new stylist is as frightening as discovering your breaks have failed while driving fast down a small stretch of road heading for a sharp turn.

Walking into the salon my nerves were shot. The staff did their best to make me feel at home. The atmosphere was informal, light hearted and I was made to feel like a friend being introduced to a new social network - there were even some eye candy to gawk at. My stylist’s wife also popped by to ask whether I was nervous. My nerves soon settled after discussing with my new stylist what I wanted and he explained to me realistically what we can achieve. Diplomacy is a key skill in hairdressing.

I spent a couple of hours at the salon, having my hair coloured and cut. For the first time in 8 years I was allowed smoke breaks during treatments - a big plus! The staff appeared to enjoy their work, had a passion for what they do and the skill to match. I left the salon looking great. Finally I was blond again and have something that resembled a hairstyle. I found a new family who can look after my hair, people whose expertise I can trust and want to build a relationship with.

Driving home, I still had a sense of guilt for divorcing my salon of 8 years. I will miss the times I spent there and the people I came to know. My stylist decision to move to London to broaden her horizons and breathe new life into her career also forced and encouraged me to make some changes in my life. In life there are no certainties. We all change and sometimes the decisions of others instigate change in us. It’s not always pleasant, but without this, life would be far less interesting. I wish my stylist the best of luck with her future and career. Those who she leaves behind will miss her, but those fortunate to cross her path can look forward to a compassionate ear that will listen, a good friend that will tell you the truth and of course GREAT HAIR!

Till next time.

I AM WHAT I AM live performance by Shirley Bassey