The smell hit as you walked through the door of the Grosvenor House Hotel. A
pungently sweet, almost asphyxiating chemical cloud. A cocktail mixed in the
laboratories of L'Oréal, Wella and Schwarzkopf. Graham Norton put it best
when he burst onto the stage amid extravagant pyrotechnics. “Naked flames
with this much hair product? What were they thinking?”
The event was the British Hairdressing Awards. Norton, the patron saint of
hairdressers, was host. More than 2,000 hairdressers were screaming, sobbing
and sounding klaxons. Your intrepid correspondent was, frankly, way out of
his depth.
Norton told the women in the audience that they had scrubbed up beautifully.
“Makes you almost want to be a straight man.” Then he recalled the scenes of
wild inebriation at last year's event, noting: “You're not afraid of the
taste of wine, are you?” He imagined unfortunate people going to the
nation's salons for a haircut the next morning and finding stylists
“slipping in your own vomit, shouting ‘I'm an award-winner!'”
The hairdressers hollered and hooted and we were off into an evening of glitz,
outlandish edifices of hair - a woman seemingly attached to the world's
biggest fur ball, a fringe that completely covered the eyes - and a torrent
of tears as winners sought to outdo each other in a style of emotional
acceptance speech known as the Gwyneth Paltrow. The occasions when sentences
did not contain “incredible” and “amazing” were those when the trembling
winners were too overwhelmed to form words.
And good for them. British hairdressers have a lot to celebrate. The UK
hairdressing sector has been booming: it leads the world in creativity,
attracts the leading talents and fascinates the rest of the world (in a good
way). Over the past decade the industry has expanded so enormously that it
has been unable to keep up with demand. There is a huge shortage of
hairdressers.
Anyone facing a credit crunch-enforced career change could do worse than
consider picking up a pair of scissors and training for one of the 37,000
vacancies waiting to be filled. Salon managers sluicing back champagne
talked of 21-year-old employees earning £40,000 a year.
We are, in short, a nation obsessed with our hair. As one who tends to have
his mop cut only when it is beginning to impair his ability to walk down the
street without bumping into lampposts, then spends £12 visiting the local
barber (and regards that as rather steep), I had no idea that there was this
national love affair going on until I started to look into the subject. But
it's true.
Let me ask you a question. Who do you think spends the most on their hair,
British women or French women? Call me ungallant if you must, but I assumed
that it would be the chic French. For all their innumerable, incomparable
qualities, fabulous hair is not the first thing that pops into your head
when you mention British women.
But the reality, ladies, is that you greatly outspend the French when it comes
to tending your tresses, forking out 2 per cent of your annual spending
while the French spend 1.5 per cent. Indeed, women of Britain, you are
almost as vain as your menfolk.
Almost, but not quite. For an even more intriguing trend is that British men
now go to the hairdresser more often than women do. On average, blokes go
almost nine times a year while women make seven visits to a salon. And there
are - get this - a million men in Britain who colour their hair. A million.
The origins of Britain's modern-day love affair with hairstyling can be traced
to Vidal Sassoon, the first superstar hairdresser. In the 1960s Sassoon put
the style into hairstyle by creating geometric cuts and popularising the bob
with the “Nancy Kwan”, a style he created for the actress. The British
hairdresser was a trailblazer in the way that he built a global business of
salons and haircare products. John Frieda, who sold his brand to the
Japanese Kao Corp for £260 million; Toni & Guy, who have 231 salons
in the UK and 171 abroad; Nicky Clarke; Charles Worthington and Trevor
Sorbie are heirs to the Sassoon legacy, along with British hairdressing
stars of the catwalk shows such as Guido Palau, Eugene Souleiman and Sam
McKnight.
“Vidal Sassoon was the godfather of the modern hairdressing world,” says
Martin Smith, managing director of L'Oréal's professional division. “From
him stemmed all these iconic names that are worldwide brand names in their
own right. Vidal put British hairdressing on the map.”
Smith is a New Zealander working for a French company. He says that the world
looks to Britain for its leading hairdressers. He can think of only two
famous French hairdressers and one of those died recently. “Then you can't
think of anyone else. At Milan and Paris (the fashion shows) it's British
hairdressers. We have a cultural melting pot that brings a lot of openness
in terms of creative spirit. There's a real attitude of knowing when to
conform, when to break all the rules. There's an unashamed attitude towards
rebellion reflected through clothing, through music, through hairstyles,
make-up. Football, too, influences men's perception of grooming. A million
guys in the UK colour their hair. Who would have thought?”
Akin Konizi, of the hob salon group, who was crowned Hairdresser of the Year
last week for a set of styles influenced by the Sixties and Seventies, says:
“We are an island. We do it our own way. In Europe the boundaries get
blurred. The Italians borrow from the French, the French from the Germans.
We come up with our own ideas and take them as far as they can go.”
Angelo Seminara, the previous winner, came to England 13 years ago, when he
was 23, from Italy, where he had started as a barber. He found Italian women
unadventurous in matters follicular. “When I saw the work from this country
I thought, these guys are amazing.” He came to work with Trevor Sorbie at
his salon in Covent Garden and is now international creative director. He
says something rather startling: “Britain has the best hair. Really fine and
silky, nice tone.”
As Mica Paris crooned on stage, the awards ceremony throng had no doubt that
they were the best. “There are very few things where Britain is still No 1,”
says Jon Macleod of Paterson SA, an Edinburgh chain of salons. “We've had it
with cars, we've had it with sport.” There are 31,000 hair salons in Britain
and the industry employs 200,000 people, up from 155,000 in 1991. British
women spend an average of £35 when they have their hair cut, and cough up an
average of £55 for colour. Women over 65 go to the salon once a month but
younger women go much less often, bringing the average down to seven visits
a year. In 2000 the average number of visits was ten.
The reason for this drop in frequency of visits is that younger women are
spending more on colour and more adventurous styles. They like to treat
themselves but can't afford to do that as often. They are busier and are
spending more on products to maintain their own hair. Also, Smith says,
better-trained hairdressers “are giving consumers better colour and a better
cut that lasts longer”.
This year L'Oréal's research found that men were, for the first time, going to
salons more often than women. “It's a turning point,” says Smith. “Role
models have given young guys the confidence to look after themselves and
show that they are proud of their grooming habits. It's really interesting.
David Beckham, when he went really short, made it OK to have thinning hair.
If you have thinning hair, keep it short - it looks smart. The influence of
the Beckhams and the Clive Owens and the George Clooneys is unbelievable.”
Yet despite the stars of the hair world, the TV shows and the countless
magazines, there is a feeling that the hairdressing industry has some way to
go to attract all the talent it requires. Demand has outstripped supply.
According to Habia, the body that sets standards for hair and beauty training
qualifications, the industry has grown rapidly but the quality of some
trainees has not been up to scratch, and retaining staff can be difficult.
Lisa Shepherd, who has four salons in Birmingham and is one of only three
women to have won Hairdresser of the Year, points out that many women leave
to have children. Other talented hairdressers go abroad. “There's a tendency
that any Brit who says they want to work overseas will be snapped up,” says
Alan Goldsbro, the chief executive of Habia.
There is still sometimes a stigma attached to hairdressing, based on the
stereotype of the girl with few qualifications who leaves school at 16 and
goes to work in a salon. Shepherd went into the business only because she
fancied a boy who was taking a hairdressing course at her local college. She
says that the training is getting better and that television programmes and
media coverage are improving the standing of hairdressers, but more needs to
be done to sell hairdressing as a skilled profession. “Re-educating the
general public and young people won't happen overnight.”
“People haven't thought of hairdressing as a profession,” says Jean-Noel
DeJeukem, who runs a foundation course in salon management at the University
of Greenwich that is one of several courses that aim to make the business
more attractive to ambitious people. He has a doctorate in hospitality, a
background in haute cuisine and says that hairdressing is where the
hospitality industry - particularly the restaurant business - was a few
years ago. “Now chefs are revered, as they always have been in France.”
One of his students, Chantelle Abbott, 23, wants to be trained to a level
where she can open her own franchise of the salon where she works in
Guildford, Surrey. She dropped out of a university business management
course to go into hairdressing. “I don't want to have to work my way up in a
business,” she says. “I want to come out with a degree in salon management
and be able to start things off myself.”
Vijy Sangar, 27, already has his own small salon but is taking the course
because he claims to suffer from a problem common among hairdressers: “I'm
very good at hair but not at running the salon,” he says. “I've got no
management skills.” Despite the expansion of big chains, the vast majority
of salons are small businesses.
As an increasing volume of champagne flows around us at the Grosvenor House
and the first revellers start to stagger, Shepherd waxes follicle: “I don't
think there is any other profession that in 30 minutes, for fifty quid, will
give a girl who walks in with her shoulders down, without the confidence to
have a conversation, a cut or a bit of colour so she'll walk out like a
goddess.”
Will they keep spending that money during a recession, though? Andrew Phouli,
co-founder and chairman of Rush, is bullish. The company had 19 salons this
time last year, now has 34 and plans to open 35 more next year and the year
after, and 50 the year after that.
“Business is very good,” he says. “People need to get their hair cut. They
want to feel good.”
Shepherd expects that some customers will come in every six to eight weeks
instead of every four. “But I don't think women will walk around with
roots,” she says. “They'd rather not eat.”
Short on top and forget the sushi
How much self-confidence does a haircut from a top stylist give you? I took my
thatch to Angelo Seminara, last year's Hairdresser of the Year and a winner
of many other awards. He would normally charge £125 for the cut that he gave
me in Trevor Sorbie's bustling salon in Covent Garden. That's more than a
1,000 per cent increase on what I pay my Polish barber.
Angelo is in constant demand from customers at the salon, for shoots and to
give demonstrations around the world, often to audiences of several hundred
hairdressers. His celebrity clients include Gisele Bündchen, Sophie Dahl,
Denise van Outen and Ringo Starr.
I suggest that he hasn't seen a mop quite like mine for a while. He politely
says that it is merely “a little bit big”. Ah, these top hairdressers.
Making you feel good before they have even started.
“What motivates me is to create avant-garde hairstyles,” he says ominously.
One model in his set for the awards had hair that appeared to be frozen in a
3ft wave. He also invented a style called “sushi”, an extraordinary
combination of elaborate layering and colouring. Fortunately, he says that
the style is artwork “ and not everybody wants to wear a piece of art”. He
will just layer my hair and tidy it up a little.
What about my growing bald spot? that threatens to turn into a monk's tonsure?
“If you were an actor there are things you can do, like thickening spray.
But as you get older...” he shrugs.
The girl who washes my hair gives a sensational head massage and the appeal of
a top salon begins to grow. Angelo says that he can complete a haircut in
half an hour but generally takes an hour. Customers like to have a chat and
to enjoy the whole experience.
“I'm a hairdresser because it gives me the chance to create something
amazing,” he says. “It's great to see people go home happy.”
My hair has never really had any style and I haven't combed it in decades.
Angelo gives me a loose side-parting, explaining that this is the way it
naturally falls. Revolutionary. It has a stubborn kink that no comb can
tame. Angelo calls this “character, personality. It's classic hair”. Boy,
can he charm. I'm getting an idea of why women form such bonds with their
hairdressers.
I brace myself for him to stick a load of gunk in my hair, but no. “I like
really clean hair,” he says.
After a normal trip to the barber I look shorn. But Angelo is adamant that
“you shouldn't look too much like you've been to the hairdresser”. No
clippers for the back of the neck here, though I can see that I definitely
had a haircut. It is layered and feels smoother, softer. Angelo has even
disguised my bald spot a bit. But when I turn up in the office a colleague
says: “Have you actually had a haircut?”
Now I understand the key to the role of a successful hairdresser. It's not to
make you look better, because often people don't notice. It's to make you
feel better. And that is an art.
And Brits excel at these, too...
Hat making
Not only do we rule the hair waves, we are also top hatters. Of course,
Britain can boast the fashionistas' stylist, Stephen Jones, but, as we have
learnt from Strictly…, it's who the people vote for that really counts. And
in the 2007 International Contest of Hat Designers, Sharon Bainbridge beat
off Dutch, Swiss, Japanese and lots and lots of French milliners to win the
public vote for Une glace mangée dans le parc. And yes, it looked good
enough to eat.
Free running
Although this hybrid of gymnastics and dubious street skills associated with a
misspent adolescence originated in France, Britain has embraced it. This
year, Brits Tim “Livewire” Shieff, Ben “Jenx” Jenkins and Pip “Piptrix”
Andersen took second, third and fourth places in the World Freerun
Championships.
Pet parading
First we had the world's oldest cat show, hosted by the National Cat Club in
1887, and now we have Crufts, the world's largest dog show with 23,000
entrants. Last year the Cullens from St Leonards-on-Sea, East Sussex, took
Best in Show with their giant schnauzer Jafrak Philippe Olivier.
Track cycling
A new era of British dominance in the ultimate “sitting down sport” has
arrived, with Team GB reigning supreme in the past two world championships
and at the Beijing Olympics, and Bradley Wiggins, Chris Hoy, et al, becoming
household names.
...and one close shave
Giant vegetable growing
In village halls and gardening clubs across the country, Britons have claimed
world records for gigantic potatoes and incredible string beans. Flat caps
off to Joe Atherton from Nottinghamshire for his 5.84m-long carrot, and
Alfred J. Cobb, also from Nottinghamshire, who achieved the cucumber double
whammy: heaviest (12.4kg, 2003) and longest (89.2cm, 2006).
Pole dancing
The balletic Elena Gibson took first place at the Miss World Pole Dance
Championships in 2005 but was later disqualified for removing her shoes
during the performance. Oh, and her dress. Shame.
Hannah Fletcher
