Hair affair
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BEIJING -- If you don’t have curly, frizzy, thick hair, if you don’t live for the perfect blow dry and the shiny goodness of straight, well-behaved hair, you can stop reading.
I have all that. After trying to grow my hair long way back when and setting it on Coke-can-size rollers and sitting under monstrous hair dryers for hours on end only to have the hair become a frizzy nest within an hour, and after celebrating as if it were Christmas when a product called Curl Free debuted only to have it make my head bleed and not straighten my hair, and after having it professionally straightened to the tune of hundreds of dollars at a time but realizing that coloring and straightening together ruin the hair, I opted to continue going un-gray and taking another route to straightness.
It is a small indulgence but a twice-weekly blow dry by a professional, someone who can brace herself, dig that round brush into my hair, turn the dryer up full blast and pull, pull, pull is worth the cost. And when I travel, I always, always try to locate a reputable hair salon in the city.
That can be a challenge sometimes but never more so than here. And I’ve never needed a blow dry so badly. You may have heard: It’s really hot and really humid. And my hair type is not the norm.
There’s actually a hair salon in the Main Press Center, and I went there Saturday. A team of five touched and sniffed my hair and huddled and talked, then brought out the dryer and took turns. The result? When I came back to our office, a friend who knew I was going to test out the salon said, ‘Oh, it wasn’t open?’ But for the equivalent of $7, it was worth a shot.
After two 14-hour days at gymnastics team qualifying -- love the sport, but there are many bad gymnasts in qualifying; I think four of the five Brazilian women took horrifying falls off the balance beam, they were all in tears and Brazil still qualified seventh for the team finals and their hair is fabulous -- I decided to take advantage of what was an off-day gymnastics-wise on Monday to try to find another hair salon.
Some Internet sleuthing led me to C. de France. The salon had an e-mail address and didn’t seem far from our hotel. And it’s French. In the e-mail I explained in great detail what I needed. Thirty minutes later my cellphone rang, and an English-speaking woman told me I could have an appointment Monday afternoon.
Finding the place was the usual adventure. The hotel conceirge called the salon and apparently got directions. He spent five minutes giving those directions to a cab driver, who took me somewhere, told me to get out and pointed down a street. There was no C. de France anywhere. I refused to leave the cab and called the salon. Someone spoke to the cab driver for five minutes, he made a U-turn, drove me somewhere else, stopped, pointed down a street and there was no C. de France. I refused to leave the cab. He refused to drive further. I left the cab and walked down a street.
No C. de France. But there are police officers at every corner, alleyway, nook and cranny, so I called the salon and handed the phone to the police officer. He told the woman where I was, and she came and got me. Good thing because the salon was down a crooked alley.
It was so worth it. My hair is straight! And I have a stack of cards from C. de France and the offer of 50% off my next blow dry if I refer any customers. So if you are in Beijing, have frizzy hair and need a place to go, let me know.
C. de France is in the North Sanlitun Bar Street, according to the card. I also received a stack of cards for places like Club P Beijing, an international night club and lounge with invitations to its Micerata Brazil and Latin Party, the Funky Night Party, the Playboy Party and the Purple Night Party. But, really, the salon was just a salon.
-- Diane Pucin