Tag Archives: Hairdresser

Why Can’t They Leave Well Enough Alone?

16 Jun

As summer is now upon us and the rain shows hints of sunlight, I’ve become aware of a trend that is both dangerous and immoral. Normally I have a woman come to me to do my hair, but on occasion I frequent a local beauty parlor. While under the dryer, I often flip through the pages of whatever magazines they have available. I find this keeps me up-to-date on the social issues of the day while saving me the shame of actually purchasing one of these gossip gazettes myself.

Yesterday I was at said salon having my hair done in preparation for last night’s gala at our own Museum of the Mundane, when I noticed page after page of young women whom I can only describe as orange. Bernard, my coiffeur, explained that “having” a “tan” was “all the rage” amongst these young “celebrities.”

The tone of one’s skin (whatever that may be) is a gift from above, and to try to deliberately alter it is quite frankly blasphemy. I myself am rather fair-skinned and, while I do not intend to imply that my complexion is perfect, my complexion is in fact perfect. This is because I have never deliberately tried to alter it. It has changed, of course; after all, I have travelled the world and one does not spend days building a hospital in the Chalbi Desert without getting some sun. But that was the result of the good work I was doing, not a vain attempt to change the hue of my epidermis. If these young ladies could manage to do a decent day’s work, they might find that, in addition to a helpful pay packet, they will earn the bronze glow of a job well done.

What I find even more alarming is that some of these starlets do not even gain their colour from the sunshine, but rather apply to it to their own persons through the use of a cream which changes their skin’s shade. Christopher informs me that this is why they appear so orange, rather than tanned. Ludicrous! I think we would all agree that harlots use artificial colour to paint their cheeks—-what on Earth must we call those women who paint their whole bodies? I shudder to think and am thankful that I am unfamiliar with the names that Christopher has suggested as possibilities.

Despite all my worldliness, I still find myself shocked by some of the things people find in vogue. Call me a fuddy-duddy, call me a prude, call me an award-winning writer with fans based all over the northern and southern hemispheres, call me what you will. But I am comfortable enough with myself as I was made to have stayed ignorant of this trend for as long as I have, and I am glad of it.

Note: I may be away from the computer for a day as tomorrow I am having one of my tattoos removed. We shall speak soon.