The Neurotic “I’m the only woman on this earth that has birthed a child, and I’m going to make sure you know ALL about it” client..

A woman aged 35-50 dressed as Michelle Bridges or one of her contests on The Biggest Loser barges into the salon with her human trophy of fertility perched in a titanic sized jogging pram. Her life is now devoted to being a painfully neurotic mummy martyr. Her whole existence is consumed with her freshly baked legacy usually named something whimsical and pretentiously vomitus ie. Dandelion, Huxtaberger, Ajax or Arabica..

Mommy dearest: Oh!…umm.. Are you the lowly peasant honoured with cutting my anointed child today? What are your credentials exactly? Are you sure you’re even qualified!?…(SIGH) I must insist on interrogating you with every single strand of hair you touch or even contemplate looking at..

Hairdresser: Pardon me Madame,
You’re demonic spawn is hissing, writhing and screeching with such vigour a banshee would cover it’s bleeding ears.. If we continue on I’ll have to call in a young priest and an old priest.. If I may be so bold to suggest, do you think it best to reschedule, perhaps when Rosemary’s Baby is feeling a little less satanic?

I’m baaaaaaaaaack


So after a long, tempestuous and rather exhausting hiatus from writing I have decided its time to get back to blogging and make good on my exposé and promise to divulge more confessions from the salon floor.

Looking through the blog stats last night I am truly blown away by how much interest The Hair Hore has had. By way of thanks and to display my humble gratitude I’d love to hear from you all so do tell, what sordid salon secrets would you like to read about next..? It’s your chance to ask me what you’ve always wanted to know about, the ins and outs, the trials and tantrums of a hairdressers salon life and all that it entails…

Please type me your requests in the comments section, I wait with baited breath to see what you request! Until then,

Much love to you all,

HH x

Stupid shit clients say…

– When you cut my hair last time you made it curly! My hair has NEVER been curly!!

Yep, cause my scissors have the magical ability to change your DNA..

– I was not at all happy with my last colour. You said it was a permanent tint but I have grey roots after 8 weeks!?

Ok, unfortunately I’m yet to discover the technology to colour the hair that’s yet to grow out of your scalp but when I do you’ll be the first to know…

-I want a MAJOR change, but you can only take off a bees dick of a millimetre and I want the EXACT same colour as last time.

I’d love to give you a new look, with a punch to the head!

– NO hairdresser has a EVER done my hair the way I like it!

Probably because you’re very unhappy with that ginormous body you’ve eaten yourself petal.. I’m not Jesus, I’m not a magician or a plastic surgeon..

-Why do u always talk to us!? Don’t you realise we’re tired of hearing the same dull questions from hairdressers?

This question is usually posed by insecure and arrogant types that have a deluded sense of self importance often bolstered by having amassed the usual status trophies, large Metricon house, Porsche Cayenne. All of it owned by the bank of course but you’d never guess by the slick real estate agent like presentation and the perpetual bragging..

In all honesty, I’d prefer these types of clients to stay mute for the entirety of their appointments ALWAYS.. Please sit down, relax and do shut the fuck up… I’d be a welcome relief from blowing smoke up ur arse you insecure fuckwit

The “Privileged, Pretentious and Prima Diva” clientele…

A Prima diva with all the charm and charisma of a warthog and the wits and intellect of a crumpet strides into the salon. Preening, pouting and admiring her facade in every reflective surface along the way and over an hour late for its appointment, not a care in the world..

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late.. (insert disingenuous and woeful excuse)”

Mmmmmmm, Whatever Lauretta, gurl, you strutted in here acting like you’re Evangelista walkin milano Versace fall 96, wait..what the fuck!? Is that a fucken matcha almond nipple milked latte in your precious hand?.. Never mind, you are over an hour late for your appointment.. As long as you are hydrated your highness…. impeccable manners ya mole! where the fuck is mine!?..Oh AND what is this.. Oh ok, that’s just 500 bags of shopping… Uh huh.. Must have been an emergency! You just had to squeeze that retail splurge in between meeting your insecure misery guts Pilates clone “yummy mums” for brunch before rally driving it over here (not forgetting a quick stop off at the local bio dynamic vegan pollen drip, holistic twig tanbark dust alkaline hydration mastibation conceptual cafè).. No, no don’t mind me Lauretta, take a seat and demand that you want a complete hair over haul akin to KimNaye that would literally take 18 stylists and up to 16 hours to achieve.. Oh! You “EXPECT IT” and you must be out of the salon in 40 minutes!.. Of course! No sweat Big L, I’ll just figure out a way to bend the laws of time and physics so you can get home in time to watch the latest pox riddled episode of the “Kuntashians”… You’re so right! You must find more time for yourself, poor darling, absolutely run ragged.. I don’t know how you do it all!! You are amazing!! Inspirational!! Definitely must have more YOU time!!..Wait…You just got back from Maldives, didn’t you!?.. What!? Terrible!?… No, well I completely agree, it’s not a holiday, not if you have to “babysit” you’re own children for quarter of an hour because the kids club closed early one afternoon! Oh how could u bare it!?.. Three cheers for mummy of the century!! Hurray, Hurray, hurray!! Oh, You needed to be out 29mins ago?? . No! I’m so so sorry!! I’m making you late, completely my fault, I must atone!! Might I grovel at your feet? Will I gift you my first born!?… You are my one and only client, without you I’m ruined.. Yes, That’s right, I exist only to cater and pamper you’re spoilt sanctimonious head.. I pledge my undying devotion to be the fixer for your impossible expectations and infuriating demands, nothing fulfils my down trodden beauty school drop out, bimbo existence more than to be so privileged to listen to your never ending poisonous prattle, the tiresome carousel of keeping up with the wank stains! Lauretta, you are the perfect display of deluded middle class that feebly attempt to masquerade as old money but the neuvo always shines through like a discarded Ferrero Roche wrapper, squished into some neither region of a faux Chesterfield couch purchased from Super Amart. I do so relish in those last seconds of being in your condescending servitude.. I dread the moment that you must dash off to another incredibly imperative but glamorous social event, I can only dream of the life you have, sniping and moaning at mothers group or Ohhhh-ing and ahhhh-ing over a thermomix demonstration, pushing your little darlings into activities they despise to vicariously reclaim some of your youth..Until you return and grace me with your pretentious presence I will be distraught, distressed, inconsolable and empty. Pathetically whimpering and impatiently waiting for a tiny fragment of your glorious light to return and revive me.. Praying all the seconds of the drawn out days that I may be so divinely blessed with your generous patronage once more..Oh please Lauretta, let it be so…

BEWARE: Hipster Twats in Nannas clothing..

Let us all have a standing ovation for the men folk that pay exorbitant amounts to have a more often than not well below par hipster cut wanked over with “shears” and on occasions, a scissor glove that some hair cutter named Rocco found in the far flung corner of the 2010 Sydney hair expo. Outrageous! Outrageous indeed! For quiet some time I have noticed a large number of the male population have been brainwashed by these pied pipers of “barbers” and what might you ask may be so tempting to all these men.. Beer!! That’s right, a FREE fucken 330ml beer! Why don’t you just save yourself the wankery and cry out “Please mr Hipster man that appears to resemble Fagin from Oliver! please treat me like I’m a try hard nerd in year 8 and not worthy to set foot in your manly hair emporium! I so enjoy awkward random questions posed by vacuous pretenders with tatts and beards and clothing that appears to have surfaced from the steerage class of the long since sunken Titanic. I want to be unique and individual, just like you mr hipster! I want it all and I’ll pay thru my bleeding buggered arsehole gleefully, because, I’ll get a “free” sherbet thrown in for my trouble!” No!!!!! Beware boys, Do not fall foul of A.D.B (Attention Deficit Beero) Do not be fooled into turning into a dreaded hipster, you must see through their ominous black magic and revoke the skin tight button down sleeveless shits and the suspenders, take back the beard and the moustache and declare “I will not be misguided by a twat in grannys clothing, not even for an Asahi!”

The “Sit the fuck still!” Clients…

Crack, Marionettes and haircuts don’t mix..

Whilst having your haircut it’d be a terrific help if you just sat the fuck still. Turning your giddy head to look directly into my eyes is not advisable. To make myself plain, I am not able to cut a precise line if you’re doing your best impression of a marionette puppet on crack listening to electro house tunes . It’s common practice for clients talk to me by looking into the mirror you and I find ourselves in front of at this very moment!… Confusing as it may be we are both, in fact facing the same direction, I see you, you see me, this phenomena is known as a reflection. Amazing and true… Welcome.