Crowning Glory

Written by Louise Evans

Apart from the usual ‘kitchen scissors to the fringe’ of childhood hairdressing, I seriously began cutting my own hair at about 15 years of age when I finished work as a shampoo assistant and cleaner at the local hairdressers, having shrewdly watched every snip for three years. The skill proved endlessly practical once I began travelling in my late teens, living off a few pennies a day, and passing through places where the hair fashions left quite a bit to be desired. I’ve cut my hair in hostels, train stations, scummy bathrooms, summer cottages, the forest, overlooking medieval villages, and even a sauna. The world was my salon. I’ve also tried my hand many a time on willing and not-so-willing victims such as neighbours, classmates, boyfriends and backpackers.

Let’s dwell a little on the liberations of taking the scissors into your own hands. Economically speaking, being your own stylist is dirt cheap. You never have to rearrange your life around appointments. It can be done at 7am or 7pm or any hour in between, in fact if you’re struck by the muse in the middle of the night, that’s a good a time as any. You can have pretty much whatever haircut you like, as often as you like. It might just suit you to conservatively go with a style your grandmother will coo over. But think! You could have a vampire pointed fringe, a fluorescent mohawk, five rats-tails or just some Flock of Seagulls decadence.
 
But the downside is being willing to take a sharp instrument to ones precious locks and slice and chop without entire certainty that the final result will be exactly what was envisaged. That classy flapper bob you intended to sculpt upon your head somehow emerges as a heinous Rod Steward hedgehog mullet. It takes a gutsy person to be able to pull that off, as there’s no-one else to blame but yourself for the tragedy.

You feel as if you’ve let the side down. Many are be inclined to scramble under the nearest duvet and hibernate after a self haircut gone wrong. You lie there, praying the asteroid would hit Earth, um, right now please? But as you get more acclimatised to these tragedies, you’ll soon leave the duvet behind, get out there and STRUT. (After of course readjusting the offending locks, or shaving your head and taking a monastic holiday). Before you know it, everyone will be replicating your creation. Hell, Rod Stewart might even come knocking....

This is the moment in the article where I make a bold confession: in the last year I’ve been a couple of times to a Real Hairdresser. Sorry. He works at one of those formidable Ponsonby Road salons, where I assume it’s all lapdogs and bling mirrors. But he also does blackmarket cuts in his kitchen while the flatmates drink beer, play psychedelic guitar and occasionally provide such encouragement as ‘Ooh’ and ‘Aah’.

The first time I apprehensively went to his house with my mid length hair, in hopes of a ‘trim’, it all started swimmingly normal. I perched obediently upon a bar stool and was swathed in a cutting cape. Snip snip. Then he slugged back some wine and I soon heard a SNIP! THUMP. ‘Ooh!’ ‘Aah!’ gasped the flatmates. I stared horrified and transfixed at the seemingly massive chunk of hair that lay slain upon the floor. My hairdresser gesticulated in an Edward Scissorhands-like fashion, and gleefully announced, ‘Ohhhhhh, I’m feeling a little creative’. That ‘trim’ transformed itself into a sassily short cut that I never would have dared try myself.

Well, he totally went up in my respect books after that. SO he’d had years of cutting experience, which probably gave him superhuman confidence. His scissors would rival the Grim Reapers’ scythe in sharpness. He had a 360degree view of my head, which, as any home hairdresser knows, sure beats trying to cut whilst balancing two mirrors by yourself. But still, it’s the approach that counts. He was inspired by the moment and brazenly took advantage of it.  It’s that sort of rash but also calculated philosophy to hair cutting that the self-hairdressers can relate to wholeheartedly. I applaud his panache. I also have now, er, tampered with his handiwork.......shhh don’t tell him.

I talked with a few youngsters that are of the home-haircut persuasion, to try and get an idea what attracts them to the art. All of them are dedicated to it, and would probably find it hard to go back to a hairdresser. In fact a few of them have been spurred into action by traumatising events at the salon. Our lineup is artist Sid, sound engineer and musician Calum Gunn, student Connie Allen (pictured) and Kiri Hills, home support and teacher aide.

How long have you been cutting your own hair?
Sid: Since I was about 14; I tried to go back to a hairdresser once more recently but it only confirmed my self-styling convictions. I went home and re-did it.
Calum: Roughly 3 years or so…
Connie: 4 years!
Kiri: I've been cutting my own hair for about 2 years. I cut it every 6 weeks or thereabouts.

What inspired you to do it?
Sid: My early inspiration comes from my best friend. We would watch movies and she would try and cut her hair like the characters from the films. We were about 11 at the time. I shaved my head at 13, (that was my first self-cut) then when it grew out my friend started cutting it for me until I started doing it myself.
Cash is a big factor, who has $80 for a hair cut?  I never liked the haircuts I paid for. I know what I want and they never do it right. Plus if I mess up my own hair it’s not gonna piss me off so much ‘cause I didn’t pay for it.
Calum: I ceased to have the ten dollars required at the ten dollar haircut bar.
Connie: I went to a hairdresser in town and she kept cutting it wrong, cut off all these bits I wanted to keep. I didn’t want that to happen again....
Kiri: My inspiration began with a lack of money. My hair really needed a cut and my flatmate offered to do it for me. After that I decided that if she could do it, I could do it myself. And here we are. :-)

Describe your most disastrous cut…
Sid: Never happened, if I don’t like it the next day, I just cut bits off till I do.
Calum: It started with a little bit here and a little bit there but ended up with me having to cut it ridiculously short to make it even, additionally, women fainted and men gasped when they saw what I'd done to the back.
Connie: It would have to be when it was super short on one side and long and curly on the other....
Kiri: I've not had a disastrous cut, sorry to disappoint!


How often do you change style?
Sid: About once every three months. When you cut your own hair you will often wake up and think ‘that bits too long’ or ‘that side isn’t even’….so you just chop bits off some mornings. It makes for an evolving hairstyle.
Calum: I’ve always gone for more or less the same style as long as I’ve been cutting my hair, though I think I’m going to change my tack and go for an undercut next.
Connie: Once every one or two months. I dye it differently all the time too.
Kiri: I can't say I've changed the style. I like the cut I have. It's been this way for about 3 years.

What advice would you give to someone wanting to start?
Sid:
1) Buy new scissors. (Supermarket scissors are good)
2) Just cut it however you want.
3) Don’t be too precious about it. It’s just hair.
Calum: Use the bluntest kitchen scissors you can find no mirror and make sure that you don’t let anyone who knows anything about cutting hair near it, this way everyone will be able to tell you did it yourself.
Connie: PLAN it first....I once did this angled bob on my friend, and she straightened her hair beforehand....so it came out totally too short at the back, with two long bits hanging down on either side of her face.
Kiri: Don't be afraid! If you totally muck it up, you can always go to a salon - but do try again. Sticking to the style you have is probably the easiest way to start, that way you can just follow the lines that are already there.

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