Sindy, Barbie and Tiny Tears) didn’t stand a chance. Come to think of it, neither did she! I learned howto plait, discovered the wonders of gels and hairsprays 1 even cut hair with paper scissors! Who could have imagined that years later I’d be standing on stage in front of 3,000 hairdressers in Beijing cutting the hair of a top model with paper scissors to achieve a blunt cut bob! Fashion darling!
When the time came to leave school I decided I was destined for fashion college and so off I went. However, I didn’t stay long as the magnetic pull of the salon was just too darn powerful! I started hairdressing in a small village salon that had a huge reputation. My mother insisted if I wanted to be a hairdresser I had to learn from the best and the best around at that time was Denise Moody.
I was petrified of her (moody by name, moody by nature, maybe). Her standards were incredibly high, everything was done in a certain way and tea was served on fine bone china. The word’OK’was not allowed! We, her staff, stood to attention as she arrived at work, ready for a hard day’s slog.
Broom in hand, I would do my best to impress. As I rinsed every bit of lather away, I’d dream of becoming as good as her; as I cleaned her tools and made her lunch I would take every opportunity to watch her like a hawk so I could pick up her every move. She was glamorous, travelled to foreign places and had shag pile carpet. I loved her!
I was determined to prove that I could and would make it to the top! As I listened to her telling clients of her trips to Acapulco I knew I had to travel too, and see what lay beyond the mines and moors of Yorkshire and learn more about women and their hair.
So one day I packed my bags and jetted off to Australia, Asia and the USA to do just that. In Sydney I learnt howto do the perfect sun kissed beach highlight, in New York how to give the Manhattan’blow out’and in LA howto surf and do hair all in the same day.
In Bangkok I tressed for those who loved to show off their wares on pole dancing stages in the red light district. But London was too much to resist and, in true Dick Whittington style, I believed the streets were paved with gold and I’d become the hairstylist on everyone’s speed dial. And more or less, I did!
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