The Devil's Curly Hair...

Yesterday I got my first haircut in Korea.

I had been putting off going to a hairdresser for months because I was feeling a tad timorous about the prospect of getting my hair cut in a country where I can’t speak the language. I knew I would be unable to voice my protest at the inevitable point in the hairdressing process where the hairdresser tries to straighten my hair and force it to adopt a style that my unruly ringlets simply won’t accept. I decided to be a man though and march bravely into unknown territory. An appointment was made for me to meet my destiny yesterday afternoon and I vowed that though my head might be bloodied by the experience that it would remain unbowed!

Two of the teachers from my school accompanied me so at least I knew that I would have some trusty translators by my side whilst crossing enemy ground. When I entered the hair salon a collective hush fell over the room as the sleek straight haired hairdressers and clients gazed in horror upon my unkempt mane of wily curls. Ever since Eve tempted Adam with her serpentine locks we curlies have been eyed with distrust. In the eyes of some ‘the curly one’ is an agent of the devil and curls are symbolic of tendrils threatening to ensnare the virtuous and drag civilised man back down into the deep dark abyss so that he can never achieve enlightenment.

One of the hairdressers approached me cautiously keeping her hand on the pair of scissors in her pocket at all times lest my curls turn out to be Medusa-esque snakes that required severing at the neck. I was led to a sink where the hairdresser violently ‘massaged’ my head and dunked my hair into the basin, doubtless in an attempt to drown the serpents in my hair. When this first ordeal was over I was led to a chair where the hairdresser began the cutting process. Much to her alarm my hair started to curl up again as she was cutting so she started frantically straightening it with a comb and blow-dryer as she cut. However, this crude weaponry was not enough to keep my curls at bay and she was forced to call for reinforcements. I looked on in amusement as three perplexed hairdressers stood around my chair furrowing their brows in a vain attempt to understand the situation.  Thankfully, at this stage one of the Korean teachers appeared by my side and I asked her to reassure the hairdresser army that I actually liked the spirals and there was no need for them to try to destroy my coiled crew. Evidently, the hairdressers were loathe to accept this argument because they persisted in their attempts to tame my wild, unnatural, heathen tresses. I therefore had to sit still and endure it as my hairdresser continued to slash away at my vine like curls.

All in all, the experience was not unlike that of going to an Irish hairdresser. In fact, it was slightly less traumatic as I at least didn’t have to suffer through the whole ‘small talk’ fiasco that one usually has to go through at a salon.

I have learnt that curls are just too subversive for Korea’s conservative straight obsessed society. I may be shunned because of my big gay hair but I shall stay strong and stay curly dammit and I won’t let ‘the man’ try to straighten me out! FREEDOM!!!!!! (Sorry, Braveheart moment.)

In more interesting news I shall have the pleasure of a long weekend next week so I plan to fly to Jeju island for four days. Hopefully news of my expedition shall ensure that my next blog will be less arduous to read than my recent rant about the plight of the curly haired…

P.S. Here is a clip of Simon Amstell extolling the virtues of those who shun the hair straightener and wear their bouffants with pride!