Take it on the chin

It is probably unnatural to feel so soothed when you have sharp objects so near your ears and neck, but I love having my hair cut. A hairdresser has a lot of power: they are altering the way you look and we are very sensitive to changes in our reflections.

It is very instinctive to feel comforted when we are touched: to arch your back like a kitten when someone rubs your scalp and combs your hair. And a hairdresser has to listen. They are obliged to stand just behind you or next to you and listen to whatever you have to say until their job is done and often they wash away your worries with shampoos bubbles.

My hairdresser was called Tiara. Really. And she showed up late on a motorbike, shook her blonde mane out from under her helmet and made herself a coffee before she came to ask what I wanted.

She decided not to use scissors – instead she styled my hair with cutthroat razor that flashed in the mirror as she sliced it past my temples. I haven’t had a razor cut before and it is a strange sensation. You can really feel the hair cut, feel the blade tugging as it moves. It’s quite a nice feeling, once you get used to the noise it makes. It’s like the ripping sound you make when you accidentally put your foot through your bed sheet.

I closed my eyes through most of it. And when I opened my eyes Tiara was folding away the blade and swept the hairs from the back of my neck with an old badger-brush. I have to admit, my hair was shorter than I had expected it to be… And this time I am not exaggerating when I say that she literally shaved my head.