Why I love my hair dresser

My hairdresser was my writing mate's long before he was mine. I first entered the establishment when the salon hosted a reading for the Geneva Writer's Group (and later I was able to read from one of my novels at a soirée there.)

What makes it very different from most salons, is that it is also used as an art gallery. This latest visit they were showing photographs.

Being dual purpose isn't enough. Jean-Pierre gives the best haircuts I've ever had. It is almost like he cuts my hair strand by strand. My daughter, whenever she comes to Geneva, always makes a haircut part of any trip. He has clients whocome from Holland and Austria to take advantage of his scissors.

But there are other pluses: tea, coffee, chocolate, head massages that guarantee I'll be relaxed for the next 24-hours.

And the conversation about books, movies, painting can be fun. Yesterday he was telling me about a book, gave a few hints on the story line and stopped. I made eye contact through the mirror. "If I tell you more, I'll have to charge you 40 CHF," he said. I knew it was a joke because once after discussing a book, he ran down to the bookshop next door and bought a copy to give to me.

Five minutes later I was sharing the plot of a book I'd read, that I knew he'd enjoy.  "I'd tell you more, but I'd have to charge you 40 CHF," I said. His brother and co-owner of the salon, giggled from the other side of the room.

I do love my hairdresser.