Hey that’s no way to say goodbye (to your hairdresser)

ONE of the nicest and possibly most daunting aspects of being a hairdresser for a long time is that quite often other hairdressers come and see me as clients.

Over the years I’ve enjoyed the responsibility and company of hairdressers who have sat in my chair. From a professional perspective, hairdressers are like regular clients who see the salon chair as a confessional, an escape, a therapy session in some ways where they can vent about the things that bother or concern them.

Maybe it’s a place where they believe that once they leave, all is forgotten — the stylist moves on to the next client and the client has had their opportunity to let off steam, chat, debate or simply enjoy the process before getting back to the harsh reality.

But hairdressers as clients are different — they come initially for the hair cut or colour but ultimately they want to compare, assess and evaluate where they are in their own career and professional life and maybe pick up a trick or idea that they can take back. Often, though, it’s an opportunity to engage in some confidential conversation about business, staff and of course, clients - and it was that exact topic that led to this week’s article.

A long-standing client of mine and fellow hairdresser was in my chair last week and after we discussed the usual stuff, we came to the subject of client retention — how long our clients have been with us and how they become friends.

We get invited to their weddings (after we’ve done their hair, of course) dinner parties and birthday celebrations; we watch their children grow up and sometimes their grandchildren.

Christmases, holidays and occasionally tragedies are shared — the loyal client knows that the salon chair is a place to let go when sometimes there just isn’t anywhere else.

So what do we do when a longstanding client just stops coming?

This was the question my friend asked me — what do you do when you notice a client hasn’t been in a while, a good reliable customer, a friend whose hair you do every few weeks through thick and thin just disappears?

Of course there are a few things to consider — was she happy with her hair last time? In most cases a client who isn’t satisfied, especially a regular will almost always tell you.

Was she ill? Changed jobs? Having money or marital problems? The answers to all of these questions seemed to be no. So I asked her: ‘Did you contact her?’ to which my friend said no. ‘I’m too embarrassed, I’m frightened that I’ve done something wrong, maybe I didn’t do her hair the way she wanted it and I have put my prices up slightly or maybe I’ve said something — I just don’t know.’ The thing is , this isn’t unusual — I’ve seen it happen many times; clients of 20 years simply vanish with no warning or reason. We notice the absence almost immediately but always put it down to something simple — a holiday or illness — and then the weeks turn into months and we start to overthink. What could we have done? A phone call is considered but it’s hard to know how to react and in most cases it’s never answered. And of course that is also a red flag. So why do clients leave their stylists without an explanation? One could say that there is no explanation required — it was a commercial collaboration that had obviously run its course. Maybe the excitement was gone, the appointments had become routine, the relationship had become unprofessional or flat. And all the other aspects of modern life come into play — social media dangling lots of carrots and choice as well the rise of home hairdressing convenience. But it’s the personal aspect of the split that is really at the core of what hurts — pretty much every hairdresser would prefer to know why a client has moved on no matter what the reason, especially if they have had a long-standing relationship.

But it’s not that easy — when a client decides to change her stylist it will not be one reason or one appointment, it will be a series of dissatisfactions or small issues that will have led to the decision.

Some will not even have anything to do with hair — over-familiarity, indiscretion, being taken for granted, appointments being rescheduled, lack of imagination or creativity, people not commenting on their hair and quite often, cost.

None of these things are really easy to discuss and most of us will avoid confrontation.

I asked my friend if she noticed anything different about her client over the last few years that maybe sparked a change in the client’s attitude. The only thing that she could think of was that after the pandemic she had closed her salon and saw her clients at home but didn’t think her customer minded. In fact she sensed that she preferred the intimacy.

I countered that post lockdown there was a sense that customers wanted to have their hair done safely and looked for alternatives to conventional salons, but that trend was reversing with clients now wanting to experience salon atmosphere and social interaction.

It was clear to me that my friend was deeply upset by the loss of her customer but the reality is that clients have the freedom and right to spend their hard-earned money wherever they want and when the decision to move is made, loyalty will have little input. In my own experience, when a client moves on we can usually sense it before it actually happens.

We will try to up our game, change our approach, encourage creative ideas, experiment with styles and offer incentives but it may be a dying cause.

Clients often mention some friend’s new hairstyles that has been created by a hot new talent, or ask about a salon that’s just opened. Often they can object to the stylist’s suggestions and defensive when advised of suitability.

We learn to read the room and try to do everything in our power to avoid the potential loss but it may be too late and no matter what the history is between you, it’s simply over. We accept it but never really get used to it — losing a client is like losing a friend, but often without the reason, argument or explanation as to why.

During lockdown a very good client of mine (we will call her Sara), contacted me to say that she wanted to let me know that when we returned back to work she sadly would not be coming to see me as she had found another hairdresser. She went on to say that she had loved all the haircuts I’d ever given her and particularly when I cut her hair from long to short when she reached 40. She also thanked me for looking after her hair when she was very ill and would never forget the conversations and laughs we shared.

I was, she said, the one constant reliable man in her life, but sadly it was over - that was all.

I suggested that surely there was a way around this and that I didn’t want to lose her as a client, and she came straight back: ‘It’s not personal, my circumstances have changed and having a haircut isn’t priority any more. I have someone who will maintain it — .that’s all it needs but if it ever needs more, I’ll let you know.’

I smiled to myself because I had gotten to know her very well over 25 years and this is exactly who she was and how she behaved — and I loved her for that.

A few months later, I stood outside my salon on a warm late summer’s day, when a dapper greyhaired man approached me.

‘Hello Paul, you don’t know me but my name is John. You used to cut my wife Sara’s hair. I wanted to let you know she passed away a few weeks ago and she wanted me to let you know that you were the one constant reliable man in her life.’

He smiled at me and we hugged, like men do, for a few seconds.

I was the one constant, reliable man in her life but sadly it was over, that was all