“Not only do you get a good cut, you get comedy”
In her weekly column, Maddie Grigg shares tales from her life in rural Dorset . . .
FORGET the old adage about diamonds being a girl’s best friend. That accolade must surely go to my hairdresser. For many years, she’s coped with my twice-yearly wails of “I want you to do something different with it but I don’t know what!” with a willing sigh.
She’s patiently whipped out a magazine from the pile on the window-sill and, in anticipation of my request, pointed to something already earmarked.
If I saw a style I liked, she’s always been the first to say it wouldn’t suit me because it was “too boring” and I needed something “more funky”.
These days, however, she tries to persuade me against my reluctance to change the way I look.
Usually I’ll just decline firmly and say I’m quite happy with the bob I’ve had for rather too long.
Then she’ll catch me in a positive mood where I’m full of the joys of spring, or autumn, or whatever the season may be, and I’ll sit down and declare, “You just do what you think, Mel. It’ll be fine.”
I must confess I don’t do much of that these days, because I know what I like and I like what I know. But every so often, a change really is as good as a rest. Being dull is for dullards.
She has my respect because she’s totally honest. And when you find a hairdresser like Mel, you know you’ve got a gem.
I realised that I’ve been a customer of the Mop Shop for more than 28 years. I first ventured in three salons ago, when I was expecting my son, born in May 1989.
I even remember the short, spiky crop she gave me. I was so impressed, I’ve been going there ever since.
If it hadn’t been for Mel, I wouldn’t be living in Lush Places. I happened to be going into the salon after looking at another house for sale in the village which Mr Grigg and I liked but couldn’t afford.
Mel had the answer – she knew of one on the market which didn’t have a sign outside. The rest, as they say, is history.
I have laughed with Mel, sympathised with her and enjoyed a cup of tea while my highlights took hold.
I even suffer the indignity of Mr Grigg being called Some Bird’s Bloke because she didn’t know his name when he had his hair cut there for the first time.
The nickname’s stuck. If you ever see SBB written in the appointment book, you’ll know it’s Mr Grigg.
She and Melissa have been working together for 30 years, since the latter was Mel’s apprentice on the former YTS scheme.
Not only do you get a good cut and style, you get comedy, banter and a sense of wellbeing as you leave the shop.
That was in evidence when the two of them held a party in Mel’s mum’s café to mark 30 years in business. The place was packed with grateful customers, who glugged down glasses of Pimm’s and enjoyed dainty morsels and a cracking cheese board.
“It’s SBB!” Mel said as we walked in to join the throng.
I soon learned that I was one of their longestsuffering customers (Mr Grigg’s phrase) at the party.
“I reckon I deserve a free haircut for that,” I said to Mel, who swiftly offered me a glass of Pimm’s instead.
“I’d give you a gin but I’ve run out of tonic,” she replied.
“Oh, but Mel,” Mr Grigg said, as smooth as you like, “the tonic is going to visit you every six weeks in the salon.” n