Monday, October 31, 2011

Will you marry me, Biba?

I’ve had one really bad hair experience in my life. Really bad. Can’t leave the house without a headband, can’t look at myself in the mirror without cringeing, throw a mini tantrum each morning and curse the day I agreed to be the hair model for a friend, bad. ‘Just trust me’ he insisted ‘I’m the hairdresser in this relationship’. It was so bad, that the one person always guaranteed to tell me the truth gasped and demanded to know ‘who did that to you?!’

Why do we do it? Why do we cheat on our hairdresser? For two years I had been faithful to my gorgeous stylist and colourist at the Urban Retreat in London and was in hair nirvana. 'It was a moment of weakness' I told them, 'It's not you, it's me.' It took 2.5 years and dozens of intense reconstructing treatments (thank God I worked for a salon group) to restore my platinum-fried Beatles bowl-cut to it's former elbow-length sun-kissed glory. 

Fast-forward three years and you can understand why I was a little edgy looking for a new hair salon in New Zealand. For the first year I was a commitment-phobe, hair-whoring myself to stylists all over town, then suddenly I found Biba. Ahhh, Biba. 

Ever since my first appointment, I have heard the theme song to 'Cheers' whenever I think of Bindy and her Bindybots at Biba in Birkenhead. Pretty, stylish and so welcoming, the whole team makes you feel like you're their favourite client.

I start dreaming about Biba's signature lemon ginger tea a week out from my appointment. It comes in a pretty vintage teapot, with banana chips, almonds, delicious balls of coconutty goodness, and a sweet little inspirational quote card that changes each time.

The wireless is free, there's a roaming iPad if you need to google a celebrity for hair inspiration, and there are all the Vogues, Elles, Grazias and Fashion Quarterlys a girl could wish for. It goes without saying that the massage is dreamy and the products are the best you can get. 

But it's all irrelevant if the end result has you reaching for a paperbag. When I left Biba on the weekend, I checked myself out in every shop window on the way home and knew I had found my hair soulmate. I'm ready to make it official. 

Biba, I'm yours, till death do us part.

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