My hairdresser quit and left me with this yahoo

I rarely give in to internal profanity urges, but FUCKING FUCK FUCK!!

My hairdresser moved away. I found this out when I went to make an appointment. “Sorry, Gabby doesn’t work here anymore. I can schedule you with H* or M*.” Well, H* cut my hair once before, and he nicked my ear and instead of apologizing, made a wisecrack, so he was out of the question. So Michael it is.

I showed M* the photo of the hair style I wanted, and before anyone makes with the “beautician, not a magician” comments, I selected a style only slightly shorter than it was when I went in, but just as stick-straight and babyfine as my hair is. Simple, pretty, feminine cut, and a nice change from the pixie I’ve been wearing for most of the last ten years. I spent a year growing my hair out long enough to GET a cut like this.

M* looks at the photo and says, “Yes, I think this is very nice for you,” and even points out how very clever I am to pick a model who has my hair type. I THOUGHT when he started cutting that he was cutting at a completely backwards angle, and I said, “Don’t you want to be cutting the angle THIS way?” and he said, “No, if you want it to lay like that I have to thin the back first.” So, he’s the pro, right? He must know what he’s doing, right? He took a razor to me, and left me with this horrifying, layered, angled-from-the-back, flipping out at the chin, crooked bangs FUCKING NIGHTMARE. It resembles Florence Henderson’s Brady Bunch shag. The cut I had picked was a longer, angled-from-the-front and all one length in the back cut that was so pretty.

I just want to cry. I absolutely hate it, I’ve never in my life had a haircut that was so different from what I wanted, and he cut so much from the back that I think I’m going to have to get it ALL cut short again to even it out. I want to go back in there and tear his head off, but what do you SAY to someone who butchered your hair??

Ugh, I hate being forced to choose a different stylist*. It might be the most stressful thing ever.

I feel for you but, really, it’s just hair and it will grow back. Please don’t take offense to that, as I, too, have had my fair share of awful cuts (battling one now, even). It really blows having to go through so many nasty styles just to find a person who actually listens to you; good luck.

*I’ve been with the same stylist for nearly 3 years now; my last cut was courtesy of a “I need a haircut TODAY” situation and Jen wasn’t available. But she’s fantastic and she always listens to me and, on occasion, she’ll talk me out of really bad ideas (cuts that even I know are too short, bleaching my whole head blonde, things like that; although she did “allow” me to get a perm, a complete disaster for which I’ll never forgive her :stuck_out_tongue: ). I’ll be devastated when she leaves, but then I’ll work to find someone else who will take care of me the way she does.

In your particular situation, I’m not even sure I would’ve paid the guy. I’ve done that before, but only for really bad jobs. YMMV.

If you’re close enough in the 'burbs to where I live (near Naperville, Bolingbrook, Aurora, etc.), I have a recommendation for you. Frank Gironda salon. Giovanni. Wheatland Marked Place location. The man is a god. Personable, loveable, friendly, witty, and he gives a damn fine haircut too. I’ve had him cut my hair from pictures I saw in magazines several times, and he’s damn good at it. My entire family goes to him. Reasonably priced, too–around $35 for a cut (I’m willing to pay a lot of money to get my hair looking good). If you go to him and don’t get what you want, I’ll pay for your haircut. Let me repeat, Giovanni is a god.

Other than that…I can feel your pain. Before I found Giovanni, I got a terrible haircut at Ulta (don’t ever get your hair cut at Ulta). There were huge posters for some Redken product all over the store, and the girl had a cute haircut. I decided I wanted that. The dumb chick who cut my hair had friggen 24"x36" posters all around her, and she couldn’t get it right. I ended up with the Florence Henderson style you describe. After she tried to style it for about 20 minutes (and put about 23 products in my hair in the process), she stepped away and said, “Okay, I give up; you use the products and see if you can get it to look like you want it.” I couldn’t–she had futzed it up that badly. I ended up paying for it with tears in my eyes and not tipping her (unintentionally; I would have tipped her if she hadn’t run off afterwards because that’s how much of a doormat I am). After that, I spent a week in the Caribbean. Short hair + humid weather = Snap has a white girl 'fro. I couldn’t do anything with it. I hated it.

But yeah. Go to Giovanni. You will never find anyone else as good.

hey - be happy wqith what you have. I live with god-awful “wavy” hair. Its not curly - I can’t get any of those hairstyles. And Its not straight - I can’t get any of those to work. And I’m a weak, ugly blond that sort of hovers between brown and blond. The only hairstyle I had as a boy were varied solely by which section was shortest. I grew a ponytail, which I am going to cut off. It look absolutely horrible and only kept it because I like pulling my hair back across my head. I suppose it might work, if my hair was three times thinner and was straightened daily.

Yes, I’m male.

I also have halfway hair. Wavy. Not curly enough to do any of the curly styles, not straight enough to handle the sleek looks. Sure, when the hairdresser uses 6 brushes, 8 spray bottles of coconut-scented goo, and an iron, it looks great. But then you should see the tears produced when I try to recreate that look at home!

Thankfully, I’ve found a hairdresser who can give me a very simple cut that I can pretty much wash and wear with very little work involved. She had me come in with my hair washed and allowed to dry normally, so she could see its natural wave, and she worked with it instead of fighting it. Every other hairdresser seems to see it as a challenge, and they try to make my hair do things it was never designed to do.

I’m considering asking if I can film her work so that if she ever skips town I can train another hairdresser to do the job properly.

All these stories of wavy hair…

I used to have beautiful curls. Women were jealous of my curls. I looooooooved my hair. But this summer my hair started growing straighter and straighter. Now it’s just wavy and frizzy. I’ve taken to wearing it straight, and it looks pretty good, but damn, I miss those curls. I started dating a boy with beautiful curls and he takes them for granted. (One time we were at a restaurant and he got up to go to the bathroom and the waitress came over and went on and on about how pretty his hair was and if she were 20 years younger she’d jump into his lap and yadda yadda…) Dear gods of hair, I will never ever take my curls for granted if you would just please return them to me!

Heh. My daughter has waves and frizz. She also got a horrible haircut tonight. It was SUPPOSED to be this cute, tousled do ala Drew Barrymore, and she came out looking like James Dean. Since she’s 15 and touchy, we did NOT tell her it was a lousy haircut. We threw her in the shower and when she emerged, we air-dried her hair, put some goop in, and told her it was CUTE CUTE CUTE.

I really may go back tomorrow and give this guy a piece of my mind.

Oh yeah. I hear ya. My barber retired after a heart-attack last month.

The fellow that bought his shop said he admired ol’ Vic and that his customers would get the same fantastic treatment he always gave. (Vic was an old-fashioned barber that is basically a guy’s equivalent of a trip to the spa: Good coffee, wood-working mags and other gentemen’s literature while you wait. CBC Radio Two plays softly in the background. Hot towels, oil-and-straight-razor shave, proper barbering, and then a vibrating scalp massage.)

Here’s my first (and last) barbering experience under the New Guy:

CBC has given way to Top 40 commercial radio. Magazine subscriptions have not been renewed. Instead, there’s the Province, the Inquirer and the motherfucking Weekly World News. My heart sank, but I came across town for a hair cut, dammit, so I waited. I didn’t have to wait long.

“Short back and sides,” please. “Sure you don’t want something different?” “No, really. Short back and sides.” Now I get the list of reasons I really ought to go another way. I ask what he’s got in mind. He gives me a brief outline of his vision. I tell him I have extreme reservations because my hair is very fine and a bit thin, and it sounds like, the way he’s described it, I would end up with quite a bit of visible scalp. (Don’t imagine I have a comb-over or anything horrible, it’s just that I need a bit more than two inches on top. It’s not a MPB thing, it’s been fine & thin since I was a teenager.) He assures me that he knows what he’s doing and it’ll look great. What the hell, sez I, I haven’t really changed my hairstyle significantly in quite a few years, and time marches on. I give the nod and he goes to work.

“How about some highlights?” he asks. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. My hair is practically downy. I could have it grown out and styled like David Bowie in Labyrinth – if you took any colour out of it, the micro-fine filaments would become practically invisible, and my pate would shine through like it wasn’t there at all. Pass on that, dude.

He does his dirty work, slaps some gel in it, and grins at me. I look like I woke up the day after frosh night. I guess it’s supposed to be punkish or something. Pitiful little standing tousles accenting my skull, with my fucking scalp shining through, like I said it would. I clap my cap on my head and sullenly make my way home.

Over the next few days, I discover that if I don’t put gel in it and stand it up/forward, it looks like someone tried to give me a bowl-cut – without the benefit of a bowl. Too short to repair. If winter weren’t coming on, I’d have just shaved it off. Instead I wear a hat outside and spend an inordinate amount of time trying to make it look less ridiculous whenever I arrive someplace. Argh.

$25 bucks, and I would have looked better if I went to fuckin’ HappyCuts or some damned thing. It’s just grown out enough that I can probably get it cut again in the next couple of days.

But where to go now? Roll the dice, I guess. I sure as hell won’t sit in that chair again. :mad:

If you’re willing to pay, you can go to Michael at Hair Peace on Kingston Pike - I used to go to him when I was in Knoxville (and when I could afford it - I’d get a really good cut about every six months, and in between go to a less expensive place and watch them like hawks while they trimmed it). Last time I was there it was somewhere around $60 for Michael. I don’t know about the others there, since I never went to any of them, but you could always try one of the others if you don’t want to spend that much.

I also had decent results at the Ross the Boss in the Kroger Plaza on Kingston Pike when I first moved (I just didn’t love it as much as I loved what Michael did). I forget who I saw there though.

Those hairstylist nightmares are such a bummer! Paying someone to mess up your hair - it just doesn’t seem right!

I was going to hop in here to share my stylist’s name, but I see others have had the same idea. I’ll tell you anyway, Agron at AK Salon in downtown Chicago (Wrigleyville) is amazing. My sister has super thick, very wavy hair that she’s never been able to make work for her. Until she met Agron. He’s fantastic, and a really nice guy to boot. Neither of us has ever been disappointed.

I go to Hair Cuttery. $13 and a good cut; I’ve never been unhappy with the results.

I was going to the same guy since I was thirteen - my stylist in VA - that includes the four years I lived in NYC. I have ultra-thick, wavy hair. I have people tell me they would kill for my hair.

They’ve never tried to style it.

I’m the girl who sits in the chair while every stylist in the place comes up to the chair and the person cutting MY hair says over and over “Look at how thick her hair is! Have you ever seen hair this thick??” and ten different people touch my head.

See why I hate going to new places and I stick with the guy I know? He knows how to deal with my hair and what to do.

However, after moving to Ohio last January and realizing that I needed to get my hair cut here, I looked around for someone. I found one girl who did my hair for my bridal portraits in August - she did a beautiful job and I loved the style. However, I wasn’t too thrilled with the cut I got two months later.

So I stopped at a salon around the corner from my apartment complex. Little hole-in-the-wall place that I normally wouldn’t go to unless it was absolutely necessary. I stopped in to get my hair cut off (after growing it out for a year for my wedding hairstyle, I was SICK of spending 45 minutes blow-drying it). I got matched up with this very sweet Russian woman who proceeded to give me the BEST HAIRCUT OF MY LIFE.

It’s short and layered and SO cute. Two months later, it’s still easy to handle (although I’m going to go get it trimmed in a few weeks) and still easy and still adorable. Everyone who sees it says it’s so much more flattering than my long hair. And I can have it blow-dried in fifteen minutes flat.

Check out the hole in the wall places - you might be pleasantly surprised.

(And I feel your pain - I’ve gone through the Florence Henderson look, too - but I was eight. THAT sucked ass.)

E.

I used to go to the cheapo places when I had long hair so they coudl just trim the back. Then I cut it off into a bob. A bob. The very first haristyle you learn at cosmetology school. How can you graduate without knowing how to cut a bob?

Anyway, evidently, a lot of peope can’t cut bobs. I finally broke down and went to one of the best salons in town and got a good haircut. It was amazing the difference it made, both in my appearence and my mood. I’ve ogne through several stylists at my salon over the last eight years but they’ve all been pretty good.

LifeOnWry, I fell for ya, bad haircuts suck. Try going to a good place (maybe the guy AwSnappity suggested) and let them see what they can do. I’ve had haircuts repaired before and while they were still too short, they looked better after a good hairstylist cut it…

Losing your hairdresser can be very traumatic.

When I lived in Houston, I discovered Mr. Rick, practicing out of the building next to mine. Mr. Rick positively flamed, and he was beloved by all; his older women clientele worshipped the ground he walked on. When you left Mr. Rick’s, you felt like the most beautiful, most clever person in the world.
Tragically, Mr. Rick O.D.'d. The entire apartment complex was in shock and mourning. A wake was held for him in the clubhouse, and some kind of pinky-orange drink with lots of fruit in it was served. I’m not making this up.

R.I.P. Mr. Rick. To this day, no one has cut my hair as well as you.

What happens if you don’t pay because you aren’t satisfied? can they call the cops? I suppose you could write a check and then stop payment. Has anyone done this?

Boy am I glad that I cut my own hair. :smiley: ducks and runs

I feel so bad for you guys! If they don’t cut your hair the way you wanted it, you shouldn’t have to pay, or at least you shouldn’t have to pay for them to fix it!

I was in a mall haircut place (Supercuts or somesuch) years ago, and a woman came in and was very assertive and plainspoken about her complaint. Then again, the guy who cut her son’s hair had his arm in a cast :eek:

First off, thanks to ALL of you who are willing to share your stylists.

Second, I marched back into the salon today and told the stylist (who was cutting someone else’s hair) “We need to talk.” He must have guessed I was not happy, because he VERY QUICKLY took me to one side. I’m proud of myself - I didn’t get physical or even loud. I told him this was the WORST haircut I’d ever had, that my daughter was equally unhappy with hers, that I’d spent a year growing out my hair so I could wear a longer, more feminine style and that I was never ever coming back. He gave me back my uncashed check.

My best friend made me feel a lot better - she pointed out that while a pixie cut was NOT what I wanted, at least I know for certain that it looks good on me (having worn one for most of the last ten years.) So I hopped over to the mall to a salon that takes walk-ins, and got a lovely young lady who reshaped that mess into a perfectly acceptable pixie cut. She did such a nice job of repairing someone else’s disaster that I tipped her $10 on a $13 haircut.

Gahh. So been there with all y’all.

First, a bit of background… For the last 4 years, I’d grown out my hair until it was hip-to-butt length.

When I realized it was spending more time wrapped around a pencil and the vaccuum rollers (this last not actually occurring when the hair was still attached to my head, mind), it was time to Do The Deed.

So I went to a fancy salon downtown and paid through the nose to have it hacked Right Off to just below jaw length in one go. I figured it was worth the extra expense to make Really Sure that my first real haircut in 4 years was good.

And it was – the result (an angled bob) was extremely flattering, and I got loads of comments from people in addition to the usual GASPSHOCKHORROR when they got their first look at me. (That was the fun part. :slight_smile: )
Now, fast forward a couple months. I was in a hurry, so I popped around the corner to a Supercuts for a quickie trim.

I explained to the woman exactly what I wanted, “Same style, just trim it a bit…”

AAAAARGH!

Unfortunately, she took this to be license to whack everything off at exactly the same level, no layers whatsoever. And the right side was an inch longer than the left side.

“It’s uneven right there…”

“Are you sure?”

“YES. Please fix it.”

whack whack

“There! Looks good!”

“Uh… thanks.” (No tip for you, lady!)

I am never ever ever ever going to darken that place’s doors again.

I’m sorry but you have the most gorgeous hair I’ve ever seen. No one could fuck up your hair.