Daniel Galvin is an exclusive hairdresser in London, off Portman Square and Bond Street. An expensive, swanky, part of town.
Known for his expertise in hair colour I was persuaded to pay him a visit for something unusual I wanted done to my hair. My friendly hairdresser upstairs honestly told me she would rather not tackle my request but felt confident that Daniel, or at least his salon, was my man…after hubs of course!
Off I went, excited and prepared to be pampered in a star studded salon.
I was ready to treat myself. The last time I’d spent the cost of a pied a terre during a two hour sitting had been on a root canal. Today I was going for a hair treatment that was going to change my appearance and set me free!
My stylist, her juniour and her advising manager, hovered over me for five hours. They kept my head back in a neck lock until I became vertical for a brief highlight phase when I snagged a cappuccino.
By the end of my time everyone was raving about my hair and asking me if I liked it?
It was still wet so I reserved any comments until I’d gone downstairs to dry my hair in a special area for that purpose. A simple blowdry in this salon costs £69.00!
On my way back upstairs I collected my husband, who took one look at me and wondered what I’d been doing for five hours? I smiled and nodded agreeably to my girl, her juniour and the advising manager, paid, collected my coat and went home!
Several ibuprofen and a cup of tea later I lamented.
My hairdresser friend came to visit and looked at my hair,
“Can I be honest?” She said.
“You wouldn’t be my friend if you weren’t,” I replied.
“I could have done that!”
“I know,” I said and burst into tears!
Hubs was galvanized into action. He called the salon and complained, kicked up the dust, located the powers that be, with a few choice words, and took me back to face my fears today, kicking and screaming inside, with a calm and collected countenance.
You don’t have to tell me how crushing the power of negative thought is. I did all my yoga breaths, prayed without ceasing and managed to contain my angst and my butterflies and the panic rising slowly in my craw.
There was no taming my stomach and I had to duck into a couple of places on the way to the station to contain the dry heaves. I hoped I wasn’t sickening for something and knew I wasn’t!
As I walked through the salon door I’d like to say I was pleasantly surprised by my reception but on the contrary, if possible, everything was worse than I could have imagined.
I ask you, this is a world famous hair salon who can obviously afford to send out bitching vibes.
To start with the girl who spent five hours with me last week looked through me as I walked in the door and averted her gaze with a snap of the head that would have made a ballerina proud and walked to the back of the store out of sight.
The advising manager, whom I was seeing, stood at the end of the reception desk and stared me down with a smile that matched the -14 degrees C. outside today. Not exactly a promising welcome.
I handed my coat in at the cloakroom, took a gown and went to her proferred chair. There she proceeded to explain to me that she could only work with the canvas available to her and this was the best she could do.
I told her I got better results at home and she said they only used the mildest, kindest, most natural products. In the end she got her boss, the power that was, who ran his comb through my hair and said,
“We don’t want to make the condition of your hair any worse than it already is.”
“Is there anything you can do to get it the way I expected it to be? When I came in for a consultation I was told you could so I made an appointment.”
“Impossible,” he said! “If we did what you wanted you’d be going home with your hair in a bag!”
Funny that’s what all the other salons I’d visited (and my friendly hairdresser), had said!
Only at Daniel Galvin’s had I been lead to believe they could handle my request!
“Over time,” the icy manager modified, “I didn’t promise immediately.” She hadn’t said “impossible” either which was what they were saying today, after taking my money!
“Look, I don’t want you to leave the salon dis-satisfied, why don’t you come back in six weeks and we’ll do a complimentary highlight for you…though it may be yellow…” the power that was, interjected.
He said “yellow hair?” How attractive does that sound? I started to respond but decided I was only going to reduce myself to some section of the population I didn’t want him to associate me with.
“Pass me my hat please,” I said to hubs instead and stood up.
“I don’t think I’ll stay or come back,” I purred and left a very dis-satisfied customer!
The lessons I learned are these:
No haircut or colour is worth hundreds of pounds. This fancy salon is a salon all the same, they know no more than your favourite local. There are no magic tricks that justify a £300.00 tag.
A hairdresser is a hairdresser when all’s said and done. Some luck out and attract celebrities and by that association only, are they able to hike the prices. It has nothing to do with any special talent.
I can do as well at home!
No-one has the right to be disdainful about my strong, thick, coarse hair. Hairdressers with thin balding tates are desperately jealous!
My trusted hairdresser is my friend who lives upstairs.
Daniel Galvin, tut, tut, tut.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
No comments so far!
2012-02-20 15:04:22
Totally agree with you here. We have more than our fair share of ‘celebrity salons’ here but the one that is always busy is a little place called Kudos. The service is great. You’re not made to feel insignificant because you’re too old/fat/in the wrong clothes etc and you don’t need a mortgage to get a haircut. The coffee is good too!
Emperor’s New Clothes springs to mind with some of these places xx
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