afro

SEEING DOUBLE. THE CURSE OF THE DOUBLE HAIRDO

There are lots of ways to have hair extensions. Quite often my go to solution is to bury my natural hair under my shop bought hair. There are various methods, but the end result is that you only see my new (and allegedly improved) hair.

This period of equilibrium exists for a brief time until eventually we witness the return of the original hair, peeking out from under the shop bought hair, giving rise to the dreaded Double Hair Do

The good news is that for a while I’m the only person who knows that there is a problem. The circle of awareness then widens to include people that are in close proximity and know about hair extensions. If the matter is not resolved, it will eventually become obvious to almost everybody, or at least that’s how it feels.

I’m currently at the relatively early stages of the Double Hair Do, but my shop bought hair is fighting to reveal my secret. At first it was quite subtle and could be resolved fairly easily on a daily basis. We were at stage one of the big reveal. As long as I parted my hair the right way there wasn’t a problem. Stage two is a slight increase, a little more work is required but it’s doable. By stage three I’m wearing a headband on a daily basis – whether I like it or not.

It’s no secret that I’m a regular user of hair extensions. I have no intention of trying to convince people that my long luscious locks grew from my scalp, but despite my honesty and openness, I draw the line at people being able to see the stitching!

Once you reach stage three things speed up and if you don’t sort things out you eventually end up sporting a short afro, whilst wearing your expensive weave like a hat on top.

If you’re a regular follower of this blog, you’ll know that I’m generally guilty of drifting and sometimes hurtling into the Delay Zone. The curse of the Double Hair Do is one of the consequences of spending time in that zone and it reduces the time I get to enjoy my hair and makes me feel self conscious. I have a reasonable level of self esteem for somebody that looks as ordinary as I do and whilst I don’t mind not looking like Tyra Banks, Gabrielle Union or whichever gorgeous black woman springs to mind, I’d like to spend most of my time looking like a half decent version of me. Feeling self conscious about the Double Hairdo is time I don’t really want to waste.

The vast majority of the people I come across in my daily life have no idea that I’m fighting these imaginary battles and it’s probably for the best. Spending this much time thinking about my hair isn’t productive (or in any way logical) so the answer seems to be that I need to pay more attention to what my hair is telling me. Who knows maybe one day I’ll grow up to be one of those women that schedules their next visit to the hairdressers before their hair needs redoing and I’ll finally be able to banish the Curse of the Double Hair Do once and for all.

NEW CLIENT SYNDROME – SALON CUSTOMER SERVICE

By The Suburban Afro Leave a Comment

I have very strong views on customer service, which almost certainly stems from spending several years as a customer service manager for a very large company, and means that whenever I come across poor customer service I notice.

There are lots of ways that hair salons can display good customer service and over the years I’ve experienced both fantastic customer service and terrible customer service. The frustrating thing is that sometimes you get both ends of the spectrum from the same salon.

New clients seem to bring out all the best and most professional service but a year later when you’re classed as a regular it can be a very different story. Instead of rewarding you for being a loyal customer some salons seem to class you as a friend they’re not that bothered about. The level of skill is exactly the same as it was a year ago but the general level of respect seems to have dipped. There are signs that you have dropped down the scale of importance, little things such as when you arrive on time but are still thumbing through the magazines an hour later.

I’m smart enough to know that hairdressers have to make conversation with clients even if they don’t really feel like it. I also know that many of them work very long hours and as such it’s perfectly reasonable that they have their mobile phones with them. It’s less reasonable that they’re so busy talking to their friends on the phone that they burn one of your ears with a set of straighteners!

I’m now at a stage with my hair where I’m not willing to take risks. My hairy horror stories post explains the background to that. In my experience one of the biggest risks to your hair is a dodgy stylist and the second is a good stylist who isn’t putting you first. I currently only ever deal with two stylists and both of these ladies consistently provide excellent customer service. The know their craft. They do excellent work. They respect my time.

I’m fairly relaxed about braiding. If somebody plaits bits of nylon into my hair, even if they do it wrong the worst that could happen is that they’ll fall out or be so tight that my head hurts. Well technically the worst that could happen is that its so tight that it makes me go bald but lets not tangent. Unlike attaching extensions with the superpower of braiding, lots of other hair treatments involve irreversible processes that rely on some very serious chemicals and when it comes to chemicals I only ever talk to one person and that person is called Barbara.

I live in a smallish village in Greater Manchester and the population isn’t particularly diverse. There are currently seven hairdressers and three barbers in the village but none of them deal with afro hair and although the number of salons has varied over the last twenty years there has always been at least five hairdressers and none of them had ever specialised in afro hair, so as you can imagine I was quite surprised one sunny afternoon when a man approached me with a business card because his wife and her friend were about to open a hair salon.

Dishing out business cards to random black women in the street didn’t feature in any of the marketing books I read during my time at university but it definitely worked in this case. As customer relationships go that random business card has led to a relationship of over fifteen years. During that time my family has grown, the salon has closed and I’ve experimented with lots of different hair styles, but Barbara still does my hair. The location may have changed but the level of customer service is exactly the same.

My ongoing battle with my natural hair and my lifelong reluctance to ever let it have it’s own way, have led me to tolerate nonsense from a long line of hairdressers on the basis that all is forgiven as long as I look amazing on my way out of the salon. The question for me now that I’m older and better able to reflect on the whole situation is – Just how much did I hate the way my hair looked when I arrived at the hairdressers, if I was willing to accept a two hour wait and burnt ears just to look great on the drive home?

BAD HAIR WEEK

By The Suburban Afro

I’m currently having a bad hair week. Some people have bad hair days, but mine generally last at least a week.

If there was a scale of how good my hair looks where a ten is how I look when I’ve just left the hairdressers, I’m currently around a two. Last week I was a three because I could still manage a fringe with the help of the straighteners, this week I’ve dropped to a two because I can just about get all my natural hair in a bobble but not even a pair of GHD’s could get this sponge to cooperate enough to get a fringe.

I’m not particularly vain, but once I drop below a four, on the (imaginary) hair scale, I’m not myself. If I was a wealthy celebrity I’d probably have my servants covering all the mirrors, or on a bad day my mansion would be full of smashed mirrors similar to the forbidden West Wing in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. My current level of celebrity means that I just scowl when I catch sight of my reflection and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m trapped in a bad hair week and since my folic ugliness is generally finance related, my current period of bad hair is likely to last until I obtain a wad of cash.

There is a definite correlation between how much money I have and how bad my hair looks and how long that ugliness lasts. With the right amount of income I’d only look bad when there’s a diary issue between me and my stylist.

I’m constantly between hairdos which I’m sure some people find confusing but they’re generally too polite to ask and anybody that knows me well enough to ask, knows that the hair comes and goes so there’s no need to question it.

I’m becoming increasingly aware that my relationship with my hair isn’t a particularly good thing. I’m not setting a good example for my children by moaning every time I come face to face with my natural hair. At this stage of my life however, I’d say that I usually set my children a good example, so this one little thing shouldn’t really be an issue. I don’t smoke. I don’t do recreational drugs. I don’t even get drunk on a regular basis, so spending most of my time in hair extensions isn’t going to ban me from any Mum of the year competitions, my swearing might, but the hair thing won’t.

I’m generally very low maintenance. With the obvious exceptions of food, water and my tiny tribe of direct descendants all I really need is Lucozade and hair extensions. Ideally I’d also like access to a car or decent public transport which is required for mum stuff and for the regular 30 mile trips I have to make to buy haircare products. I understand the forces of retail but travelling into central Manchester everytime I want to buy a conditioning pack or a decent shampoo is inconvenient to say the least, but that’s another blog post.

HELLO FROM THE SUBURBAN AFRO

By The Suburban Afro 17 Comments

As a rule of thumb my natural hair journey is me travelling as far as humanly possible away from my natural hair.

I spent most of my childhood daydreaming about having long straight hair and most of my adulthood experimenting with every kind of hairdo. I’ve been permed, relaxed, weaved and braided but when the chemicals wear off and the extensions are removed I’m back to spending time with my nemesis. My natural hair. Every time I look in the mirror my unruly, unattractive, uneven afro waves back at me.

In the grand scheme of things the ongoing battle I have with my fro isn’t a big deal, but it definitely bothers me more than any of my other imperfections. Perhaps because it’s more visible to the world, but more likely it’s because I decided at a very young age that this ugly looking sponge was just not for me and I’ve spent so much time and money trying to fight nature and losing. Mother nature has been consistently kicking my backside for the last 44 years and will quite rightly continue to do so.

So why have I decided to start a blog about my hair? Am I on some sort of journey? Do I feel inspired by people like Jamelia who have abandoned their weaves in order to embrace their natural hair? Have I finally come to accept the inevitability of the situation? Nope. I build websites for a living and needed material for a development blog site I’m experimenting with. I work a lot better if I’m dealing with real work so I decided to combine that, with my never ending hair whinges and write occasional blog posts about my frizzy nemesis. I have an afro and I live in the suburbs and long after I’ve moved onto my next digital project I will continue to be “The Suburban Afro”