‘On the couch’ with Jasminda

DEAR Jasminda,

WHEN I was in the hairdresser last week, I overheard the woman opposite me tell the hairdresser that she wanted a new style because she was about to leave her husband after 18 years of marriage. On my way out, I took a quick glance at the person in question, and realised, to my horror, that it was Claudia from my social group.

I now feel burdened by this information.

She seemed so happy in her relationship.

We were even invited to a dinner cruise with her and Larry in a couple of weeks.

What do I do now?

Leanne Q.

Dear Leanne,

Perhaps instead of telling you what to do, I should tell you what not to do.

Under no circumstances should you repeat this conversation, told in confidence, to anyone else. What happens at Sharon’s Live and Let Dye Salon stays at Sharon’s Live and Let Dye Salon.

A hairdressing salon is very much like a confessional booth (with more comfortable chairs and Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off on rotation).

Hairdressers, due to the amount of time they spend giving their customers their undivided attention, become a therapist of sorts.

A simple, ‘How are you? Can I get you a tea or coffee?’ followed by three hours of pampering, sets off a chain reaction that invariably results in customers feeling relaxed enough and ‘heard’ enough to chat about everything from children’s careers to sick parents, to, in this case, unravelling relationships.

A hairdresser is much more than someone who styles hair.

They quite literally strip down surface pretensions.

Who else sees you in the harsh light of day, reflected back to yourself in a mirror, half a roll of foil clamped around your regrowth, a dark cape enhancing the purple circles under your eyes.

And so begins the great unburdening.

The conversation starts simply enough, often with the weather, but by the time you reach the basin with its reclining chair, essential oils wafting through the air, and a cranial massage delivered by the hands of an angel, not only are you ready to tell your hairdresser your innermost secrets, you’re probably ready to include them in your will.

Then, feeling a bit light headed, you confidently agree to anything, including the offer of the extra-cost hair smoothing treatment and blowdry, and you feel incredible.

You also naively believe that you will be able to pull off the new style with your Kmart hairdryer and some hair clips.

This is the stage your friend was at.

She felt unburdened and vivacious.

Her hairdresser was just about to remove her cape in the final unveiling, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon (or perhaps like a woman leaving Larry the plumber with his gammy leg and gambling addiction) when she spotted you and the spell was broken.

Leanne, I implore you to treat the overheard conversation with the discretion it deserves.

Perhaps your friend will announce her decision on the cruise.

Until then, hold your tongue more firmly than Sharon wrangling your hair into a topknot.

Carpe diem,
Jasminda.