THE THINGS WE CAN’T DO WITHOUT
Making-do is something we’re all having to practise, and for the most part it’s fine … unless you need a haircut!
Yesterday, Mum asked me if I could cut her hair. While it might sound like a simple request, in our household it is not; we women don’t cut each others’ hair as there’s a perfectly good hairdresser nearby and it’s been that way since Adam played fullback for Jerusalem. Suddenly, the entire balance of our relationship is about to change as I take up the comb and scissors and hack at an octogenarian’s barnet (Barnet Fair = Hair for the uninitiated). Were we in the 1970s, it would be a piece of cake, as it was common for women to wear syrups (Syrup of Fig = Wig), but those creatures have since been long retired to wherever it is that dead syrups go. Now, we wear our hair au naturel and mistakes can no longer be tucked away under a fake mane. My haircutting prowess extends to using the No. 2 electric razor on my son until he reached the age of 10, and continuing to tidy up what remains of Ol’ 76’s hair. With the latter, if I make a mistake, he accepts that there’s only a couple of weeks between a bad haircut and a good one and he wears his hat when he goes out. With Mum, I’m not so sure that any slip of the scissors will end with the same fatalistic attitude. And where do I begin, apart from ensuring she will be able to see again once her fringe has been shortened? Do I use this as an opportunity to pay her back for all of the pudding-basin haircuts of my youth? Do I use a marker to draw a line around her scalp and then cut off everything outside of it? Do I Google, how to cut an octogenarian’s hair during COVID-19 and hope the instructions don’t relate to an ageing Hare Krishna? Is it safe to aim for the Jean Shrimpton look, or is there a risk it might look more like Jean Claude Van Damme? This is a watershed moment that I’ve now put off for a week as I’m too frightened to do it. Meanwhile, Mum will soon start bumping into doors if we don’t do something!
Ours is just a single story; we are merely one household in millions facing a sudden stall in routines we have been taking for granted until now. In personal grooming needs alone, the missing professionals include nail technicians, beauticians, hairdressers and barbers, while mental health maintenance includes masseurs, hypnotherapists, reiki therapists and many others. And what of gyms and personal trainers that were once at the fingertips? They’ve been placed in stasis as well while we sit this awful disease out. While we can sit at home and entertain each other or ourselves, will passion begin to wane between couples as hair begins sprouting in places once kept secret between beautician or wax salon and client? For some, the mono-brow may make an unwelcome return, while for others, asking the spouse to drip hot wax into private areas and rip it out once it cools may be taking the relationship too far; it may constitute information gleaned that can never be wiped from the memory. What will happen to all of those who have their own nail technician and a fortnightly appointment to trim and fill in the gaps created as nails grow? Perhaps many will head for the tool shed and employ the angle grinder as others crawl under the bed with a bottle of Scotch and weep for their unsightly fingers!
As to the physical side of mental health maintenance, a massage in the shopping mall is now out of the question, as is a visit to the hypnotherapist to sort out all of those fears the average human suffers. With a new fear having landed in our laps, we need our therapy more than ever, but what can we do? I have a feeling YouTube will be buzzing with searches for DIY beauty and therapy techniques. While I can’t imagine self hypnotherapy will work too well, the web might save those with beauty issues. As to the waxing situation, part of me wants to Google it now out of morbid curiosity, as I’ve never seen anybody have hot wax poured between their buttocks, let alone have it ripped out when it cools! By the time this is over and we can emerge from our homes again, people might look a little more dishevelled than they once did, but providing they haven’t developed nervous tics I think we’ll all be fine and perhaps more forgiving the next time somebody has a bad hair day. Depending upon the length of time the emergency lasts, we may see the rush hour made up of balaclava and glove-clad people rushing to salons all over the city, desperate to feel normal again. I’ve experienced all sorts of hair stylists in my time, and I can see some of them throwing their hands in the air and offering a theatrical shriek as the balaclava is removed and their unrecognisable client reveals themselves. Can you hear it now? “Sweetie, what have you done to yourself? – you must have been living in a cave! We’ll start with the whipper-snipper so I can see what I’m working with. We’ll use the heavy duty line to begin with please, Chantelle. Bring coffee; gallons of it, and cancel all of my afternoon appointments!” We humans are a vain lot in truth, but for most of us it’s about taking pride in our appearance and putting our best forward. Aside from a small percentage who have a breakdown every time they discover a grey hair or a new wrinkle, most of will survive this providing we aim low in terms of expectation. Yes, there are things we simply cannot do without, and making do is not always advisable when it comes to using hot wax to remove somebody else’s excess hair, but there is at least one positive to be had. Allowing everything to go back to what it once was (or should be) might be the blank canvas needed for a complete overhaul and the emergence of a brand new person. This year may be the one in which millions physically reinvent themselves, especially without collagen or Botox injections available. And when the balaclavas and gloves finally come off all around the world, the beauty industry will thrive like it never has – I can hear the shrieks already! And talking of shrieks, I’m about to gird my loins and tackle Mum’s hair. Wish me luck!
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