Juustega on mul alati üks igavene häda olnud: vahet pole, mis värv mulle pähe pannakse, kuu aja pärast olen ikka punane. Ja mitte mingi ilus punane, vaid kahtlane oranž. Seega loen ma uue juuksuri juurde minnes tollele alati epistlit, et ta mulle jumala eest mingeid sooje toone pähe ei määriks. Eestlased on sellest siiani suhteliselt hästi aru saanud, kuid minu esimene siinne juuksuriskäik tundub võrduvat pange astumisega. Korralikult. Mul ei hakanud mingid häirekellad lööma hetkel, kui tuli välja, et Poola tšikk, kes mu juukseid värvima asub, on alles õpilane ja peab kõik oma juhendajaga läbi rääkima. Juhendaja võiks ju teada ja Poola tšikk tundus ka teadvat, sest ta kinnitas mulle, et tema juustega on sama jama (tema juuste oranžikas blond ei jätnud vajadust kahtlemiseks). Et see pidavatki Ida-Eurooplaste mure olema (siinkohal ma ei parandanud teda, öeldes, et halloo, Põhja-Euroopa, või olgu, teeme kompromissi: Kirde-Euroopa). Teadis ta jah. Kohe juuksuritoolis vaatasin ma end peeglist ja mõtlesin: "Jeerum, ma olen blond!!" Päris blond ma siiski polnud, salongis oli hoopis kummaline valgus. Aga üks kena punakas toon säras küll läbi. "Hästi", mõtlesin ma, "hakkab nalja saama." Ja praegusel hetkel, umbes nii kolm nädalat hiljem, olen ma punakasblond. Või olgu, mitte just blond, aga selline segu kartulikoorest ja oranžist. Kui Gali mind nägi, siis ta esialgu irvitas natuke ja klassifitseeris mu Strawberry Blonde'ks. Ja väitis, et see sobib mulle. Aga ma vist olen juba varem maininud, et need Kanadalased on lihtsalt kohutavalt viisakad. Pole vist vaja mainida, et ma kavatsen hommepäev juuksuriaja kinni panna. Ja poolakad hoidku end mu juustest parem heaga eemal, isegi kui nad väidavad, et nende juuksed on samasugused.
I've always had trouble with my hair. It doesn't really matter which colour you paint my hair, after a month I'll be red anyway. And it's not a pretty red, but weird orange. So I already have a speech prepared for every time I see a new hairdresser asking them not to put any kinds of warm colours on my hair. Estonians have understood this pretty well, but my first visit to a local hairdresser here was rather a disaster. I did not hear any alarm bells when it appeared that the Polish chick who will colour my hair, is still a student and needs to get her teacher's approval for my colour. I assumed the teacher would know and it seemed the chick knew as well as she told me she has the same problem with her hair (and her orange blonde proved her point). She also said this is a common Eastern-European problem (and I didn't correct here here saying that, whoa, wait, Northern-Europe.. or at least North-Eastern Europe). Apparently they knew nothing. After drying my hair, I was staring at myself in the mirror and thinking "Oh My God. I am blonde!!" Nevertheless, I wasn't quite blonde, it's just that the salon had a weird lightning. But I saw a fine red tone shining through. 'Great,' I said to myself 'This is going to be funny.' And now, about three weeks later, I am redish blonde. Or well, not really blonde, but a mixture of potato peel and orange. As Gali saw me, she first grinned a bit and then classified me as Strawberry Blonde. And said it looks good on me. But I guess I have already mentioned before, that those Canadians are just polite as hell. And I guess it goes without further notice that I am going to book another time to a hairdresser first thing tomorrow. The Polish just better keep their hands off my hair, even when they tell me their hair is exactly like that.
I've always had trouble with my hair. It doesn't really matter which colour you paint my hair, after a month I'll be red anyway. And it's not a pretty red, but weird orange. So I already have a speech prepared for every time I see a new hairdresser asking them not to put any kinds of warm colours on my hair. Estonians have understood this pretty well, but my first visit to a local hairdresser here was rather a disaster. I did not hear any alarm bells when it appeared that the Polish chick who will colour my hair, is still a student and needs to get her teacher's approval for my colour. I assumed the teacher would know and it seemed the chick knew as well as she told me she has the same problem with her hair (and her orange blonde proved her point). She also said this is a common Eastern-European problem (and I didn't correct here here saying that, whoa, wait, Northern-Europe.. or at least North-Eastern Europe). Apparently they knew nothing. After drying my hair, I was staring at myself in the mirror and thinking "Oh My God. I am blonde!!" Nevertheless, I wasn't quite blonde, it's just that the salon had a weird lightning. But I saw a fine red tone shining through. 'Great,' I said to myself 'This is going to be funny.' And now, about three weeks later, I am redish blonde. Or well, not really blonde, but a mixture of potato peel and orange. As Gali saw me, she first grinned a bit and then classified me as Strawberry Blonde. And said it looks good on me. But I guess I have already mentioned before, that those Canadians are just polite as hell. And I guess it goes without further notice that I am going to book another time to a hairdresser first thing tomorrow. The Polish just better keep their hands off my hair, even when they tell me their hair is exactly like that.
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