So when I first moved here, I stuck with what I knew, Supercuts. We all know that Supercuts is basically a bunch of women and gay guys that chain smoke and don’t feel like going back to college to get their Bachelors degree. This is fine, I accept this, and hey, it’s reflected in the price.
When you get out to LA, people scoff at the Supercuts pretty hard. They tell you to go to a “real place” to get your haircut. I never understood men paying more than $7 for a haircut, so even Supercut’s $15ish was pushing it for me. I mean, just cut what you see shorter and we can both be on our way.
When I asked at work for a “real place” to get my hair cut, this frumpy dude with a Hollywood mullet told me to go to Floyd’s. I looked it up, and apparently it was right near my house, so I went. The same chain smoking, don’t want to go back to college guy was there, but he had bleached blond hair and was surrounded by pseudo-hip-rock paraphanalia. When I say pseudo-hip-rock I mean the stuff that KROQ would play, you know, mall rock. Anyway the haircut went on, and it was fine, he talked like any barber would except for the fact that it was mostly about him being so wasted or fried on pot or whatever.
The haircut came out fine, and I was all ready to rise off the chair, pay the bill, and head out the door and mess up my hair (because barbers from all around love to comb my hair like I’m 6 years old). But NO. All of a sudden this VIBRATING METAL CLAW OF DEATH AND ALL THAT IS AWKWARD IN THE WORLD comes out and starts massaging my shoulders and back. What the hell was this? I’m ready to go and this guy straps on this metal robot glove and starts working me from behind?! This had far from any sort of relaxing effect, and instead made me feel tense and violated for the rest of the day.
I’ve been back a few times since, and I’ve found that if you mention Supercuts in conversation, they will give you the “oh nooooooo don’t go there” comments, but this place is like Hot Topic Supercuts. I went there a couple weeks ago and this girl was like “who cut your hair last time? It’s all uneven!” and then I get home, take a shower, dry my hair, and then realize that one side of my head is way longer than the other! I dunno.
If you’re not picky about your hair go here, I’m cool with whatever, I still have my hair longer on one side, but I walk with my head at a slant in hopes that the other side will catch up. What, it might work. I’d tell you which barber to ask for but then I’d have to wait in those squished together chairs and pretend to read a magazine for even longer.
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