Minimalist Gossip Magazine Cover (49).pdf (13) - Flipbook - Page 66
The door jangled when he entered the hairdressers. Only Sandra was there. She turned
to look at him.
‘Come in, pet. You’re Paul are you? Your mum booked you in I think.’
As Paul walked to the chair Sandra indicated to, he regained his breath and got the
David Sylvian photo ready to show her.
‘How do you want it then pet?’
‘Can you do it like this please?’
‘Aw, sweetheart, I’m not sure you’ve the volume for that style. Shall I just give you a
trim?’
‘Can you try and make it look like the photo please?’
‘The thing is that you don’t have that type of hair. Yours is much thinner pet.’
Paul didn’t respond. Sandra eyes met his, but neither of them spoke for a moment.
‘Alright, look I’ll give you a trim and then see what we can do with a bit of gel and a
hair dryer. Is that ok, sweetheart?’
‘Yes please.’
For the next thirty minutes Sandra worked at Paul’s hair, lifting up strands, snipping
millimetres off the ends which then sprinkled on to Paul’s face, holding up his fringe
and sighing, ruffling his scalp, flicking the hairdryer on and off to disperse the fallen
hairs from his shoulders, standing back and viewing his head from different angles, and
finally placing the scissors and comb on the shelf in front of the mirror.
‘I’ll try some gel then. It might lift it a bit, but it’s not going to look like this fella in the
photo. It’s just not pet. Sorry.’
Sandra massaged the blue gunk into his hair, took a round brush, twisted Paul’s hair,
and blow-dried sections, lifting, pulling, letting out long breaths, moving the strands
forward, backwards, side to side, sighed again, and stopped.
‘I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do for you. You just don’t have the same type of hair.
Everyone has different hair. That’s just how it is sweetheart.’
Paul managed to mumble, thanks Sandra, hand over the five-pound note, wait for the
change, and wander home.
The next morning Steady and Pete were waiting for him at their usual meeting point to
walk the remaining ten minutes to school.
‘Did you get your hair done then?’
‘Yes, at Sandra’s Salon.’
‘Like David Sylvian?’
‘Yes, I took a photo and she did it. It’s fallen out a bit now though. It’s flatter than
when she did it.’
‘I’ll say it is! Sorry Paul, but it looks absolutely nothing like him.’
They didn’t speak again until they entered class for registration. When the teacher got
to Paul’s name, both Pete and Steady interrupted.
‘Mr. Walson. Sorry Mr. Walson. Can you move Paul down to ‘S’? His name is David
Sylvian now.’
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