The Hair Bros

The tale of the £200 cut

Francoise Hardy, circa 1960

CLAIRE

This is the story of how I came to spending £190 on a haircut. To just type that out feels confessional. I am not a rich or extravagant person, particularly. I don’t earn much at my museum job, and I have lots of throttling adult outgoings to worry about. I am in no position at all to be spending the best part of £200 on my hair. But I do, and here’s how it came to this. 

I know it’s a hoary old reference these days, but that ‘hair is everything’ bit in Fleabag resonated so deeply because it was expressing this thing we all feel but hadn’t yet put a name to. You can mould your body slowly through diet and exercise, but that is delayed gratification. You can buy a new outfit or lipstick, and that feels good for a bit, but the dopamine hit wears off soon. A really good haircut though - there’s nothing quite like it. You feel so different and the feeling sticks, especially if you have had something quite transformative done. It’s that Gwyneth Paltrow in Sliding Doors moment, where you walk out of the salon feeling an elevated, sexier, cooler version of yourself. 

As much as you can throw a lot of money at hair, no amount can guarantee that feeling. I remember my first proper earth shaking haircut: it was about 2008 and it was at, and no I am not joking, Mr Topper’s near the Coach and Horses in Soho. There’s a few branches of these in London, and the premise is a simple but alluring one: any haircut is £6. I was an art student at the time, with the unique bravado of a 19 year old. I went in one afternoon on a whim, and a very skinny Spanish girl with bad breath gave me the most exquisite haircut: it was short and choppy and any way you ruffled it, it fell perfectly. Not a million miles from that Gwyneth cut, now I think about it. I felt like I levitated out of there. Of course, two months later when I returned, she was long gone. 

This turned into a bit of a frustrating repeat scenario: I would try a few hairdressers, find one I really liked, and they would promptly quit/leave the country/ change their career. I would have a little folder on my phone of saved images, mostly of Stevie Nicks and Jayne Matthews from Edo Salon in San Francisco or Sezane ad campaigns; cool, effortless, sexy, hair atop very slim, louche models with little poke and stick tattoos on their wrists. Not me with my big beige bras and crass jokes, but one has to aspire to something. 

I forked out something like £150 for a cut at Hershesons salon, beloved haircutters of Sali Hughes. When I arrived it transpired that my appointment was squished between models presumably being sent for cuts by their agencies, so not only did I have to stare at my big hot face wrapped in a towel, but I had to do it next to a very tall young slavic girl, whose hair seemed of much more interest to my stylist. At one point during the cut, he noticed that some of my hair was stuck under my collar, then sort of blamed the shirt I was wearing. It was so sloppy and rushed. When I came to pay, I saw that as a final affront, I had been charged £4 something for the coffee I was offered. I didn’t leave a tip (I ALWAYS tip) and I went so far as to email in a complaint, which was never acknowledged. So, that was a disaster experience wise, though I will concede that the haircut itself was nice enough.

Then quite soon after that I saw my friend Naomi, and her hair looked incredible. She had gone to the Hair Bros, told me all about how it was the best haircut of her life and explained how they cut everything dry so that it would fall in place when air dried. Isn’t that the dream? Truly effortless hair that can leave the house still damp and look phenomenal by 11am?

I pored over their instagram, filled with haircuts as good as Naomi’s, and after saving up for a couple of months, refreshed their bookings page daily until I found a cancellation for a haircut with founding bro Nick. He gave me this incredible little French bob, with a fringe that did exactly what I wanted it to most of the time. I have now been four times, and I see Roxy instead, because her cut is £130 instead of £190, and she is great. I feel like vomiting every time I hand my card over to pay, but I know it will look nice and that it will continue to look nice for months, and I won’t have to rely on heat styling it every morning, which is ultimately worth it for me. 

Rebecca

I am that gnarly woman in Educating Rita that hands Julie Walters a picture of Princess Diana and says ‘I want to look like her’.

I happen to think that good hair and a good moisturiser are the two best investments a person can make. The reason? Strip back the makeup, shoes, fancy clothes and jewellery and your skin and hair are all you have left so they better look rad.

I too have been to the Hair Bros, and can’t wait to weigh in on this.

Firstly I bypassed Hersheson’s completely for good reason. Here it is: