On a visit to the barber, the late Enoch Powell, never the friendliest of characters, was asked how he would like his hair cut.
“Quietly,” was his response.
I thought of Mr. Powell when I heard that a hairdresser in Finland had started a “silent service” for those who prefer a little silence.
Kati Hakomeri, who runs her own salon in Helsinki, has little time for small talk, big talk, or indeed any kind of conversation.
Neither do your clients: many can’t think of anything new to say from one visit to the next. ‘If nothing new has happened in life during that time, why talk about it?’ she says.
Kati Hakomeri has introduced special booking for clients who prefer not to have polite chats about their future holidays, weekend plans or the weather.
I’m with the silent brigade. If I were Finnish, I would go straight to Mrs. Hakomeri’s salon. I’m always afraid when hairdressers say, ‘Are you going somewhere nice this summer?’ Or ‘Gee, where did you last get this cut?’
That’s why I always go to a barber who has his radio permanently tuned and listens to loud discussions about football.
WS Gilbert, the lyricist half of Gilbert and Sullivan, would also have welcomed Hakomeri’s adventure. When his loquacious barber asked him: “When can we expect anything more, Mr. Gilbert, from his fluent pen?”
Gilbert snapped back: ‘What do you mean, sir, by my fluid pen? There is no such thing as a fluid pen. A pen is an insensitive object. I do not intend to investigate his private affairs. Please note the same reticence regarding mine.
Of course, there are many people who like to chat with their hairdressers. In her memoirs, Hitler’s secretary, Christa Schroeder, recalled that her girlfriend, Eva Braun, once complained to her hairdresser that Adolf “never had sexual relations with her.”
Presumably it was this same barber who passed this gossip on to Schroeder, who, many years later, passed it on to the general reader.
Never tell a secret to your hairdresser: this was one of the many life lessons that Eva Braun failed to learn.
Hakomeri also appears to be right, telling a local newspaper that there appears to be a gap in the market for the special reservation option. In the photo: Hakomeri hall.
Hitler’s personal barber thought the Führer’s haircuts would be worth preserving. With this in mind, he discreetly collected them by placing duct tape on the soles of his shoes.
Since the days of Sweeney Todd, barbershops have been an uncomfortable mix of calm and tension. Some find them relaxing; but others find them tense, perhaps because they consider them scenes for machine-gun massacres in gangster movies.
One minute you’re sitting with a white sheet around your neck and your face covered in shaving cream, and the next you’re lying on the ground, riddled with bullets.
And barbers themselves can be unreliable. A while ago a new suspect in the Jack the Ripper murders was uncovered: a hairdresser named Aaron Kosminski, better known as Jack the Ripper.
In my experience, even the most laid-back barbers offer basic courtesies: asking if the water is too hot, and finally showing you your new haircut with a hand mirror before removing hair clippings from your neck with a elegant brush.
But it was not always like this. When I’m in London I often pass a barbershop on Marchmont Street which has a plaque on the wall saying that this is where Carry On actor Kenneth Williams lived.
Her father was a male barber who disapproved of fancy hairstyles and only offered traditional short sides and backs.
Kenneth recalled a man who came into the store and asked for a blowgun. You won’t take any hits from me! – Mr. Williams Sr. burst out.
A mystery remains. Why are so many hairdressers addicted to word games? Like the British-named salons Curl Up And Dye, Shear Excitement, From Hair To Eternity and Love My Do. Another reason to book my next appointment in Helsinki.
