Here's my philosophy on salons. I don't want the salon to look too great, because if it does, you know you're probably paying to fund the décor as much as you are to pay for the stylist. That doesn't mean I'm ok with a hole-in-the-wall, vinyl seats, and flickering fluorescents, it just means that I'm more comfortable in a setting that more closely resembles my home than it does the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.
The London Salon feels like it could be in my home - slightly quirky, and more about the function than the form. I can set my tea down and not have to worry about it being on a coaster. I'm comfortable being there.
And, for me, being comfortable in a salon is super important. It means that I can be me - which is much better than pretending to be somebody that I am not. If I'm pretending to be somebody other than me, then Christ only knows what type of 'do I'm going to leave with.
Ok, so on with the show. I was new to the area, and was rapidly approaching a do-pocalypse - the type where you're embarrassed to be seen even in a Walgreens. With little else to go on, I was almost tempted to break from my philosophy and enter a local art gallery that appeared to also style hair over in Larkspur Landing. Saved by a trusted colleague, I was given the recommendation of the stylist/owner of London Salon. A close call and not a moment too soon.
Long story short, after a few visits I have settled in with Amy as my stylist. Amy is from the east coast and brings a no-nonsense east coast sensibility that we sometimes lack around these parts. Sometimes I need that, lest I get too comfortable. If she doesn't think a cherry cola rinse will suit you - she will say so in her pragmatic NYC way. Amy is passionate about her craft and it comes across in all aspects of her workmanship. What I love, is that she does everything - she washes, she styles, she colors, she drys, she sweeps - everything. There's no handing off to the junior stylist or intern. This way she intimately gets to know my hair and how it behaves in all modes. She won't attempt to style it into positions that she intuitively knows will not hold or last. In other words, she works with my hair and not against it.
I don't know why it's called the London Salon. My enquiries of the Monarchy and of their prevailing opinions on Brexit were met with blank stares. So too, was my suggestion that they might serve black tea and currant scones with lashings of clotted cream and gooseberry conserve (yummy!). Oh well. They did have an old-fashioned British Telecom red phone box and various paraphernalia adorned with Union Jacks aplenty - so I suppose that's why. Like I said... quirky.
Need to get your hair in check? Go to London, ask for Amy. read more
