Bang Hair York: Why I trusted them with my long hair
Let me start by saying that I normally loathe going to the hairdressers. My long coarse curly hair usually provokes looks of outright fear and mild disdain as I walk in. The terminology baffles me. Do I want a blunt fringe? Long layers? Highlights or lowlights? I usually end up nodding confusedly whilst the frosty hairdresser hacks at my bushy mane. Which is why I was so pleasantly surprised by Bang Hair.
The salon is quite hard to miss. With a warm orange exterior and colourful door, I poked my head in whilst simultaneously thinking “This place is far too cool for me”. I felt a bit out of place as I waited, in my holey boots and coat with a button missing. Especially when greeted by a gorgeous receptionist with amazingly colourful hair. I suddenly had the urge to dye my hair purple.
So, the wash. This is the part I always hate in the hairdressing ritual. My hair inevitably knots like its life depends on it and the poor girl almost breaks the comb in the process. The small talk grates on me as well. Mainly because I’m really bad at it. But my stylist was polite, friendly and seemed to recognise that I just wanted to lie back and inhale the delicious fruity aroma of salon shampoo (which is NEVER ever the same at home, even if you buy the right stuff).
It was so refreshing to have a stylist that appreciated long hair and wasn’t massively trigger happy with the scissors. She explained that she used to have long hair too and I let out an involuntary sigh of relief. We chatted about the benefits and pitfalls of Rapunzel hair (it’s fun to play with but sometimes you accidentally sit on it and almost rip your head off). She even said that she enjoyed combing it out because it made her day different. That was it. I was in love.
The haircut was just how I wanted – tidying it up with a few subtle layers without taking off too much length. I was further impressed by her question “What kind of blow dry do you want?” My usual hairdressers would take it for granted that I wanted it ironed straight. I gaped at her for a moment before saying, “Er, what are the options...?” She eventually did some magic tricks with the straighteners (which I tried in vain to copy at home but no luck). My hair was voluminous with big barrel curls at the end. I had to stop myself from flinging my head around and mouthing “Because you’re worth it”.
With a student card I paid about £29 for a cut and blow dry with a junior stylist, a price I was more than happy to pay. I’d never felt so satisfied with a hair cut before and came away with a genuine liking for my stylist. My faith in hairdressers had been restored.
