John Edwards for one. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/07/04/AR2007070401258.html
For me, it's kinda a love affair. No, make that a love/hate relationship. Me and the scissors. Me and the bottle of bleach and hair dye. Me and my stylist...my hair lady. I love the way I look after a great cut and style but hate the price I have to pay for it. And I'm not just talking about the way I'm raped in the pocket book. I pay with my integrity and common sense.
It started long ago when I got a perm when I was like 10. Oh the curls, the joyful spiral curls! I felt like a new girl prancing around school with my new do. But then it grew out and I needed another perm, and another, and another. It got expensive. I tried the home kit a few years later. My brown hair turned orange and became dry and frizzy. Time to go back to the salon. Just one more perm I thought, I'll save up for it. And I did. Thank God the perm went out with the eighties.
But then I found out about highlights and how I could reinvent my identity. I could capture the feeling of sun kissed hair all year. Then I went through the red phase. Suddenly I was mysterious. I couldn't possibly let my red fade. I wanted more. I wanted long layers. I wanted bangs that needed an "every two week trim." Who can afford that at $20 a snip? So I went shaggy and let *Karen give me a razor cut. How could I let someone with a razor blade come near my head? What the hell was I thinking?
Things have gotten out of hand. I have hit my low. My bottom. My bottom is exactly $246 plus $50 for a tip. (There were two people. Why one person cutting one head of hair needs an assistant I don't know) The crime occurred yesterday between the hours of 1:30pm and 4:30pm. I came in for highlights thinking it would be a wham bame hour and a half job that would only set me back $150 at max. But throughout the course of 4 hours I was swindled into a cut, color, highlights, toner, glaze and more color. I say swindled because no one said, "We'd like to rape you financially are you OK with that?" They just went ahead and did it. Yes, OK I knew about the cut. But I didn't know they raised their prices for a cut to $56! It's just freakin' hair people! That is more than my phone bill each month! I got up to the counter to pay for my crime and *Tiffany said "That will be two hundred and forty-six dollars, would you like to put the tip on your card as well?" Huh? Wha? How much? I was stunned. Flabbergasted. And like a jackass I shelled out the coin....plus tip...for...both people.
I walked out of there feeling like a moron with my tail between my legs. I was just had. Why didn't I say something? Why didn't I speak up? Because I didn't want to piss off my hairstylist for fear that next time she will really fuck up my hair. She is one powerful woman. Sure I could go see someone else next time but then we'd have to start all over again getting to know one another like a first date and you know how awkward those are.
Hairstylists will never go out of business because there is a serious addiction in this county to their drug. I can't live a life of mousy brown, split ends and grey temples. It doesn't matter how much they charge us we will pay their fee, take our drug and keep our mouths shut! They are no better than drug dealers. TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY SIX DOLLARS (plus tip). Do you know what that buys you? A plane ticket! An Ipod! This is insane and I say to you we must stop the insanity! Women of the United States get a hold of yourselves! We have lost our minds. We look damn good with our inverted bobs and chunky highlights but crazy none the less.
*Names have been changed to protect the guilty rapists involved
Avoid these people: