I have a confession to make. I've been cheating. I've got a man on West 10th Street and another on East 10th. And though a park with an arch and drug dealers separates the two, I've been sneaking around the Village, trying to be inconspicuous and unrecognizable. Quite a challenge, mind you, when you're a fabulous downtown celebrity and famous fashionista blogger like myself. (Incognito-wear by Burberry, thank you very much).
No I'm not talking about boyfriends, silly. I'm talking barbers. I'm actively engaged in that annoyingly New York phenomenon known as Cheating on Your Hairdresser. Now do me a favor and please keep the "why do YOU need a hairdresser" comments to thyselves, thank you very much. The follicularly-challenged need haircutting services more than anyone. You see, when you shave your head to reduce the contrast between scalp and the little hair that remains, you must do it weekly. When you let it go past a week, the look goes from edgy to old man. From hot bald guy to looking like someone's dad.
Unfortunately however, weekly head shaving can be cost prohibitive. When I began this grooming ritual, I quickly realized I was faced with a cost vs. revenue predicament. Peter, the Italian barber on West 10th, who has been cutting my hair since I had enough of it to sport that early 90s, artfag look, charges $25. That's $100 a month! And that is simply not a Budget Fabulous option. So I found Dmitri, on East 10th Street, who does exactly the same job for $9. There are subtle differences, of course. Peter, for example, always powders me down with top of the line Clubman talc and somehow manages to get my sideburns exactly the same length, as if aligned with a t-square. Dmitri, however, does not operate with that level of precision and he uses some shitty, no-name baby powder from Duane Reade that I swear burns a little and leaves an uncomfortable redness for an hour or so. But these are nuances, subtleties that hardly justify the $16 cost differential.
Now he's where it gets to the part where I totally suck as a human being: I haven't broken up with Peter yet! For a while I was alternating between the two of them, but for the last three months or so, I've been practicing total hair-monogamy with Dmitri. I need to tell Peter it's no longer working between the two of us, that it's not him it's me, but I just don't have the guts. To further complicate matters, my brother Brian goes to Peter also. At some point, Peter is going to ask him where I've been. I've thought of a couple of ways out of this mess. Let me run them by you:
Tell Brian to tell Peter I died.
Break up with Dmitri completely and go back to Peter on hands and knees. Tell him I've been traveling all summer, that's why he hasn't seen me. Somewhat believable considering it's only mid-October.
Continue seeing Dmitri and let Peter wonder what ever happened to me.
Start sending Peter ominous threatening notes, with little cutout letters from hairstyle magazines, urging him to retire OR ELSE. (At least if he's retired I won't feel so guilty).
Do it myself with my manscaping clippers.
Let my hair grow out and just go around with Clown Hair.
Please everyone, write in and give me guidance! The guilt is killing me. And do it soon, it's the weekend, and I need a date with an Italian or a Russian and a pair of scissors.
