My approach to getting my hair cut was exactly the same as it was for my first-ever haircut in Singapore: to put it off for as long as I possibly could. Back then, I was converting from Philippine peso to Singapore dollar, and looking at salon price lists made me swallow hard and walk away. When I started working, my wallet loosened up and got used to it. Then I moved here... and the whole process began all over again.
Except now, I was mentally converting from Singapore dollar to the Euro. Haircuts became twice the price they were in Singapore, ranging from €45 to €80, or S$80 to S$140 (a whopping PhP 2,700 to almost PhP 5,000!). And judging from the expat forums I'd read, you weren't even guaranteed good customer service or a shampoo and blowdry (!), much less a great haircut. So I put off the whole thing for five long months.
One day I woke up and I decided I couldn't take it anymore. Happily, it was also the same day I woke up to find a little extra something-something in my bank account. I went online to do some research on kappers (hairdressers) in Amsterdam, and after much deliberation, decided to go Kinki.
Kinki Kappers, that is. It's a Dutch chain of salons that's known for being relatively affordable (€41 a pop for ladies' haircuts) and quite edgy. I admit, seeing these kinds of hairstyles on the Kinki website freaked me out a little... and these are the tamer ones.
But I easily get bored with my hair, so I was figured I could use a little edge. I've never been the type to show my hair stylist pegs of the cut I want. Instead, I composed this litany: "short, no precision cutting because I have wavy hair, side bangs, little to no styling needed." Then it was off to the Kinki branch on Van Baerlestraat, 10 minutes by tram from my house.
Kinki was pretty much what I expected of an edgy yet mainstream salon chain. Graffiti on the floors, eye-popping walls and fixtures, stylists in funky hairdos with lots of body piercing and ink. While waiting, I saw this woman getting a perfectly normal (if rather butch) haircut, which did a lot to quell the images of green locks and spiky Mohawks rattling around in my brain.
The guy who gave me a shampoo was about six foot three and had huge hands, which made up for his lack of technique. The whole experience called to mind silicon oven mitts (his hands) cradling a baseball (my head).If you ever want to feel like a baby again, a shampoo by a big strapping Dutch guy (or girl) is a virtual time warp.
I couldn't have been happier with my stylist, Iris. For one thing, when I requested side bangs to cover my wide forehead, she smiled, shoved aside her own side bangs to reveal her forehead, and said: "Me too!" And while she was blowdrying my hair with a diffuser (which emphasizes natural curls), she remarked: "I love your curls. Let's switch?"
Wow. This was worlds away from Manila stylists who will insist on rebonding as a prerequisite to a haircut. I once nearly walked out on a Bench FIX stylist who had the gall to tell me: "
Magpa-relax
ka muna. Kulot ka kasi eh. Kahit anong gupit ang gawin ko diyan, hindi talaga maganda lalabas."
Kapal!
Bumalik ka nga kay Ricky Reyes!
So, stylists of the world, the way to my heart is through my curls. I always know I'm going to have a great cut when stylists show that they can appreciate my curls, or can at least deal with them. And Iris did more than just deal with them. After the jump: presenting... my first Dutch haircut!
