I must confess that I have always found visiting the hairdresser difficult.
Perhaps it has to do with a long and sad development of my head covering. Here’s a little journey.
How beautiful the 1970s were!
As a child, I was so happy with my hair. Full hair, no big worries about gusts of wind or downpours, the hairstyle somehow always worked.
It was the time of Shaun Cassidy's splendor. A few tweaks and the hairstyle was back in place after playing, all without chemicals.
The trouble began in the 1980s when suddenly everything became shorter, poppier, and above all, more chemical.
Studio Line by L’Oréal spoiled my innocent joy of wearing hair.
Mousse, gel, spray, everything had to look overly slick.
The dull 1990s were as exciting as lukewarm water in gray fog. Linear, without sound or fury.
From the 2000s onwards, the gradual reach for the hair trimmer began…
And thanks to ASMR fragrances, I now have to beg for an appointment with Timotheus, the best hairdresser probably until the end of the galaxy.
Typical, barely is the connection made, the answering machine with the artificial voice of a hair explosion greets me!
Call me, call me, baby, baby call me now!
Timotheus, the old diva and Spagna connoisseur, keeps me waiting as always. After a few determined demands from my side, he finally picks up.
T: “Oh, our faithless tomato is calling again?
Eternities, dear Axio, eternities!
You wouldn’t be unfaithful to me, would you?”
A: “Dearest Timotheus, even if it doesn’t look like it, my scalp and fluff need the miracle of your craft.”
T: “Mice bear, you know that dear Timotheus is very busy, don’t you?”
I can already sense it, the inevitable demand for money again.
A: “Oh, you know, I’m keeping my plans this year. And before such a good box of chocolates from the customer (Wiesbaden confectionery heaven) gathers dust in a dreary corner…”
T: “Mice bear, you seem to be having a lucky day today, someone just canceled. Be here in five minutes!”
I rush like lightning and enter the salon completely out of breath.
And already, I am greeted by the scent of a new kind of hairspray.
No galbanum with aldehydes, no, it’s strangely fruity and sticky here.
I am allowed to take a seat on the swivel chair and quickly have this cape tied around my neck. Timotheus meanwhile stows the chocolates in the safe.
We look at each other in the mirror.
T: “I see, I will make the desert bloom, don’t worry, my dear.”
And then a thorough shampooing. Only, this shampoo has nothing to do with my beautiful childhood memories of Schauma by Schwarzkopf.
Another one of those characterless head cleaners, a bit fruity, a bit almondy.
I get drowsy from boredom and take a little nap.
Somehow, I catch a glimpse of my neighbor being depilated in my half-sleep. Her facial expression resembles that of a Joan of Arc.
This depilatory cream smells like a hungry iris slowly devouring the accompanying white flowers. Smacking, it becomes creamier, louder. Then it gets to the hair, and the smacking can now be heard throughout the salon.
Together with the heliotrope, the mass turns purple, and thanks to musk, it becomes slippery.
I don’t like the whole thing, but it seems to disturb no one in the salon.
And then… Bam!
The purple lump falls to the ground!
My fellow contestant is now hairless like a Barbie doll, smooth and flawless.
But the lump suddenly moves and bubbles something.
“HAIR, I need HAIR!”
The lump wobbles threateningly in my direction and slowly slides up the swivel chair.
I can only watch in paralysis as this creamy mass crawls up my arm like a snail towards my head.
“Come on, old man, start licking the lollipop, otherwise we’ll give you the Kojak look!”
I want to scream out of sheer fear, but thank heaven, I wake up again! What a relief!
T: “Axio, are you suffering from sleep deprivation? You’ve slept through the entire styling session!
But that’s okay, we’re done now.
So, what do you think of the mochi look in mauve?
I can’t recognize myself in the mirror!
My hair fluff is even shorter and dyed violet. I’m powdered too, all white and smelling of rice!
Yes, I have the look of a Japanese sweet on my head.
T: “With this, you will not only succeed on Wilhelmstraße, my dear!”
Well, now you can surely understand why I don’t like going to the hairdresser.
Top Notes 
Shampoo
Varnish
Apple
Almond
Heart Notes 
Iris
White blossoms
Rose
Jasmine
Base Notes 
Rice powder
White musk
Heliotrope
Seejungfrau
Gandix
Sweetsmell75
SchatzSucher
FrauKirsche
Ergoproxy
Pollita
Pluto
FrauMieze
FragFreak666
