Prior to the age of 14, my hair style changed often. A mix of fatherly cuts, barber cuts, and "seriously, don't touch my hair" cuts were common. I had every style imaginable growing up during this time period, from buzz to bowl to Beav to mushroom to Hmm. At the age of 14, I made a change, and started giving my hair appearance a little more attention. I started parting it down the middle. I might have even been one in a crowd of people with a green heavy-plastic "Dynomite" square comb sticking out of the back pocket of my Jordache jeans. Those combs hurt.
At the age of 16, in high school and awkwardly dating, I became serious about my hair appearance. The comb shrunk as the weird fad passed, but remained faithfully in my back pocket. I moved the part to one side, my right side, where it has remained for the past almost-30 years. I stopped carrying a comb after high school. The cuts were "good enough" that the hair was easy enough to use my fingers as a comb. This, to me, is more efficient.
I've only allowed 4 trusted hair professionals in my life tell me how my hair should look. Stephanie in Phoenix, my aunt Linda, my cousin Tina, and my best friend Trevor. For the most part, each played it safe and left it as it is. My hair situates itself in a way I should not be combing it. The part is better suited on the left side, but my 4 trusted professionals always knew to ask.
In Switzerland, I have been regularly visiting the Swiss equivalent to an American "Snip and Rip". I visit every 3 to 4 weekends for a shampoo and cut (47 francs). In fairness, I have low maintenance needs, so I get the junior skills. I walk out every time wishing I hadn't visited. There is almost no English spoken, and yet, I don't place a high importance on how my hair looks any more. It is a match and service of convenience. Trevor saved me on my last visit to KC. He fixed what was broken.
Yesterday, I visited the local Snip and Rip again for a haircut. This time, I received attention from the senior skilled attendee, likely the store manager. This time, my haircut was not bad. But, this time, my part ended up on the other side. After 30ish years, as my hair appearance isn't that important to me, maybe it is time to allow it to do what every professional has always said it should do. And, since I don't speak German, I can't exactly argue.
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