Scissors Sisters & Manic Panics. Ellie Phillips

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СКАЧАТЬ situation. I don’t want you to miss out on a chance like this.’

      That’s why I wanted to enter. That’s why I’d had my heart set on it, right up until Aunt Lilah struck on Saturday. But I didn’t feel like I could tell Florence about what had happened in the salon. She might have said it was my fault – which sounded about right. And I didn’t want her to guess for one minute that maybe I’d tripped myself up and tried something out that the customer didn’t necessarily want.

      ‘You need to be objective about your performance,’ Florence was always telling us. ‘It’ll help you improve. You need to be able to stand back and say, “I did that well” or “I didn’t do that as well – I need to work on that.” That way you’ll keep getting better. If you make the same mistakes over and over and clients complain, then the chances are you’re just being arrogant.’

      I thought back to Saturday. Mrs Nellist hadn’t complained about her new style. I was convinced that she liked her hair how I did it. But maybe I shouldn’t have done it at all. I should have gone and got Aunt Lilah away from those Kit Kats and handed her the customer. I should’ve carried on sweeping up and washing heads. If I had, then I’d still have my job and I’d be handing in my form for the competition, and I wouldn’t have been worrying about what was going to happen next instead of concentrating on my class.

      We spent the morning learning about contraindications for perming and did porosity and elasticity tests on each other’s hair. Aimée was my partner and she took this as a licence to yank strands out of my scalp. This was not only painful, it was also annoying, being that I’d spent about half an hour before college twisting my hair up into a perfect French pleat. All through last year I’d had this customised ‘Hairstyle a Day’ calendar that Aunt Lilah and Uncle Zé had given me for my fifteenth birthday. It was the most perfect present and I was gutted when it had finally run out on my sixteenth birthday. I secretly hoped they’d get me another one, but they got me vouchers instead because Aunt Lilah said I was ‘too difficult to buy for these days’. Vouchers didn’t tell you what hairstyle to wear every single day of the year and how to do it. Without that calendar I was on my own. I mean, I had to decide for myself. That morning I’d decided on a French pleat, and now Aimée Price was busy dismantling it.

      ‘Wow, Sadie, you hair is so porous –’ (yank) ‘– must be all the chemicals you use. You really shouldn’t perm it, you know.’

      ‘But I’m not going to perm it, Aimée – we’re just doing this for class, right? This is an E-X-E-R-C-I-S-E.’

      I swear, sometimes I wondered why I was doing this class, instead of training to be a rocket scientist or a neurosurgeon. I’d got some decent exam results last year and my predicted grades for this year’s batch were pretty good. But some of the girls who wound up doing hairdressing were dumber than a box of hair. Were they really dumb though? I mean who’d just lost their job? Them or me?

      ‘D’you think I’m thick or something, Sadie?’ said Aimée, like she’d read my mind.

      ‘No?’ I said, not even attempting to sound convincing.

      ‘Because you act like you’re all superior and I am actually an incredibly intelligent, motivated and sensitive person.’

      ‘OK,’ I said, although I felt the words ‘frighteningly stupid, lazy and dumb’ summed her up better.

      ‘My nan brought me up, you know,’ continued Aimée, like I was interested or something, ‘and she would never do a thing for me. She always says, “you want something, Aimée? Well, go get it. You can have anything you want in this world, but the catch is you have to work out how to get it yourself.”’

      ‘Oh,’ I said.

      The truth is that I wasn’t interested in Aimée Price’s damage. I mean we all have our own tragic childhoods to overcome, don’t we?

      ‘So now, specially because my Nan’s getting old, so she can’t help me,’ Aimée said, ‘every time I have a task to do I just say to myself, “You want it – you work out how to go get it, girl.”’

      And I’ll bet she’ll have that on a bumper sticker when she gets her first pink-with-matching-interior car, I thought.

      ‘You girls finished up there?’ interrupted Florence.

      ‘Sadie’s hair is really porous,’ said Aimée, snapping back from Aimée-Price-Self-Motivator into hairdresser mode.

      ‘Acid perm lotion for you then, Sadie, if you were ever thinking of getting your hair permed, which I wouldn’t advise by the way. Alkaline for you, Aimée.’

      ‘You want it – you work out how to go get it, girl,’ Aimée repeated in case I hadn’t heard.

       Oh, purlease . . .

      Usually I was 100 per cent absorbed in my college day – I mean, compared to school it was a dream come true. Nobody blanked me at college; there were no ex-best friends like Shonna Matthews, who’d made my life a living hell last year. I had no ‘history’. I didn’t have to hide out in the library or the music room, nobody called me ‘donor girl’ and nobody knew I had a nerdy cousin Billy who played guitar. At college the teachers talked to you like you were a grown up and so mostly you behaved like one. Mainly I liked the sense that I was moving onwards with my goal, that even though the steps were small they were all in the right direction.

      But that Monday just didn’t feel positive. That Monday all I could think about, all day and even on the bus home, was the wretched competition form on the lounge table that needed Aunt Lilah’s paw-print. And all I passed on that bus journey home, in between the skanky fried chicken shops, were hair salons and barbers. I had never really noticed just how many there were. Headlines, Concept Hair, Cissor’s Palace, Curl Up ’n’ Dye, Trimmers – I must have passed at least twelve along Roman Road alone. How was it that somehow I’d wound up without a job? I had no excuse – there were millions of salons out there. I just had to find another apprenticeship. But the memory of being fired still felt too hard and too raw, and for now all I could do was to look on with envy at these other salons and the people who worked in them. Were they better than me? Were they cleverer? It felt like they must be because they had jobs and I didn’t.

      And then just as I got off the bus I saw Mrs Nellist. I knew it was her because her neat little head looked slightly rosy in a certain light.

      ‘Hello, love,’ she said vaguely, and then she really recognised me and her face lit up. ‘You know I’m glad I run into you,’ she said, ‘I’ve had so many compliments about me hair. The family were over on Sunday and my granddaughter just couldn’t get over it, and my son. They love the shape and the colour. You are clever, y’know. I was going to pop into the salon and tell you, but I don’t have to now. Ta-ra!’

      And with that she was off, her little pink head bobbing away down the road, leaving me nodding and shaking my own head with the huge irony of it all.

4

       This Was Starting to Sound Good

      The trainee hairdresser (or barber) should be open to suggestion and input from professionals, clients and their peers.

       Guideline 4: Thames Gateway Junior Apprentice Hairdresser (or Barber) СКАЧАТЬ