Cut

Last Saturday I went to the Aveda Institute to get my hair cut. This salon’s services are done by students, so it comes at a thirteen dollar price and a rule that you’re not allowed to tip. My friend Katy recommended it for its cheap price, so Alexis made me a one o’clock appointment along with her, her mom, and Rachel. I had heard that the styles take a little longer since they’re students, but assumed I could handle a couple minutes here and there. I was wrong.

Note: I am not dissing the Aveda Institute. It is a fine establishment and provides a great deal for such a cheap price. But when you’re an time hoarding control freak like me, it can be a bit trying. If you’re not a dumb ball like me, it would be a lovely way to spend your Saturday afternoon. And I mean whole afternoon.

I fill out a form and confuse the staff by writing my old address and instead of crossing it out, try to write the numbers of my new address over it. There’s very little seating space in the waiting area, but a person does come out offering cups of water and tea. Eventually, my name is called by my stylist, a young woman named Becky.

Note: I am not dissing Becky. She was a sweetheart and any complaints I have were most likely due to the teaching system and not her.

I am lead through the busy room and a towel and drape are placed around my shoulders. I am then told to look through a magazine and portfolio to match the look I'm going for. This was difficult since some of the styles in there looked like bad 80s dye job explosions, but eventually I located something that matches my look - about 2 inches off and some layers. Before starting, she gives a scalp massage which actually is quite relaxing. While talking to her, I learn that her last day is Tuesday, giving me the false hope that I'll be out of there soon.

Note: Normally I would not be so antsy, but I had Mack in from out of town, waiting at my apartment, and my sister, also in from out of town, waiting for me to get done so we could go see a movie.

Note to the Note: Do not see "Burn After Reading". It sucks.

The time is now 1:32. Becky announces that she's "putting her name on the board" so an instructor can come by to see my before hair as well as the picture I've decided on. We wait for an instructor. And wait some more. I am momentarily alarmed when I look at the mirror by my feet and see that I'm much skinnier and am wearing electric blue leggings. I realize it's not a mirror. I feel stupid and wait some more. Eventually the instructor comes by, signs a paper, and I am free to get my hair washed.

Note: At this point, I think Kristen was texting me asking if I was almost done. If only.

Alexis and I cross paths in the shampoo room. We are seated across from each other and find that we cannot touch feet, unless one of us magically grows another four inches. Becky begins to describe the products she'll be using on my hair and for my "mini facial". While Becky applies the cream and a hot towel to my face, another student named Marnie starts giving me a hand and arm massage. This was also relaxing, but later in the day my arms started to itch and a lotion crudded layer of skin came off when I scratched.

Note: I just remembered that Becky's name was actually Becca. Whoops.

Becca shampoos and conditions my hair, which takes a little longer than I'm used to, but that's probably because I'm typically an under five-minute showerer. We leave Alexis behind and return to the chair. She then proceeds to divide my hair into exceedingly tiny sections and cuts each one in several short snips before moving on to the next one. I'm all for precision, but it seems like each hair is being individually cut. This goes on and on and on and on. I start to focus on the student in the back giving a mannequin head and updo. This creeps me out for some strange reason.

Note: At this point, Mack is in my apartment getting angry with Nickelodeon's lack of programming due to the fact that it's "Go Out and Play Day". Mack does not wish to go out and play (and quite frankly can't because she has no keys to my apartment), she just wants some cartoons, dammit.

The follicle-by-follicle cutting ceases and Becca asks me if I want a plain blow-dry, or if she'd like her to give me some extra volume. Because I have limp hair and because I'm an effin' moron, I go for the latter. This involves dividing my hair into the aforementioned itty bitty sections, wrapping them around a round brush, then holding a hair dryer to each piece for approximately one minute each. I know my usual hair drying routine involves waving the hair dryer around my head with one hand and reading or playing on the computer with the other hand (and later wondering why half of my head is more wet than the other), but this also seems somewhat excessive. It's all I can do to not take the hair dryer from her.

Note: Or at least ask her if I can play Super Mario Bros online while she's working. Cause that would have made it a little bit better.

Now that my hair is dry, Becca starts to cut my side bangs. I tell her that I'd like it to fall at the top of my cheekbone. First she cuts it just above my earlobe and asks me if I'd like it shorter. I say yes and she cuts it 1/32nd inch and asks again. I say yes and she cuts it even less this time. This repeats once more, till I finally just say it's fine and resolve to cut it myself if it bothers me later. She then adds a styling powder to my roots, which actually did not seem to add any volume to my hair, as promised.

Note: It did however, according to Tim, give my hair a basil smell, which became nauseating after smelling it for a long period of time. It reminded him of a time during childhood when his friend would stick a basil plant up his nose to see how long he could stand it. Personally, I never smelled the basil.

The final part was a makeup consultation, which consisted of some blush, eyeshadow and lipgloss. I agreed to all three and silently wondered why there was no mascara, because I can have all the makeup in the world, but I still look dead without mascara. Then we had to repeat the instructor approval process. She then showed me all the products she used and made me fill out a small survey. It was then that I was allowed to run free (almost forgetting to pay), say goodbye to Alexis, and leave the Aveda Institute, two and a half hours after I arrived.

Note: I have not seen Alexis since I left the salon and while I have received text messages from her, I'm not entirely convinced that they aren't still holding her hostage. Stay strong Alexis, stay strong!

In a nutshell, you get a good amount from the Aveda Institute for a small price, but I am way too OCD for that place. Especially when no one can even tell that you got your hair cut. Oh, well.