Today I had my hair cut. This is not just your prosaic visit to the neighbourhood beauty salon. No, I had it cut at Bloater’s!
I haven’t had a hair cut for 2 months, and after 8 weeks of relentless sun and sea salt it had grown into a thick, curly, wild horror show of many colours and lengths. What to do? I didn’t want to cut it myself. By this time I could only make it worse. I didn’t trust any of the many so-called beauty shops around. A barber called Bloater was recommended. Did I want to have my hair cut by a Dominican barber called Bloater? Scary.
Last week I went by his barber shop just to check it out. I actually got the nerve up to go in. There were five chairs; each had a child in it getting his head shaved. On the long bench along the wall were some 6 or 7 men and boys waiting their turn. This was not encouraging. I found Mr. Bloater, a gentle giant of a man, and asked him if he had experience with this kind of hair, and did he think he could trim it. “Have no fear”, was his reply. I left.
But today, when I got up, I just couldn’t stand it any longer. It was hot, heavy and, sweaty. I was ready to face a barber shop full of black barbers and black men!!! I went to Bloater’s and sat on the bench, to wait my turn.
Mr. Bloater wrapped me in his big stripped cape, wound toilet paper around my throat and hefted his electric razor in my direction. He buzzed around my ears and at the back of my neck, then skillfully mowed over the top layer of the hair on top of my head, thankfully, not next to the scalp. My sun bleached hair began to fall and mingle with the jet black hair on the floor. He sculpted the hair rather than ‘cut’ it. No scissors were used until the end for the finishing touches. It took half an hour. He dusted me off, got out a mirror to show me the back and I was thrilled with the result. I felt clean, airy, and greatly relieved. All this for only 12EC (eastern Caribbean dollars: $6.00 Canadian).
So the next question is should I colour it or not? It is quite white. Mr. Bloater says yes. Tomorrow.