Rat dogs, chubby cherubs and a hairdresser called Charles
The second I saw Charles, with his matted Rod Stewart 80s wig and zipped-up sleeveless hoodie, I knew the sensible thing would be to tell him I was not the girl who’d called five minutes earlier to make a hair appointment and then exit his salon. Even before that moment there had been warning signs… He was the fifth hairdresser I’d called after Googling hair salons while holidaying in Cyprus. All the others had been fully booked for the day and said that if I was to get my hair trimmed by one of their hairdressers it would cost around 35-40 Euros. Charles, on the other hand, told me he was ‘free all afternoon’ and that a trim would cost me 15 Euros. When my husband and I pulled up outside, the sign read “Unisex Salon for Men and Woman by Charles from London” (so many questions already) and it was accompanied by some very unfortunate hand-painted font in the windows advertising his services: BODY MASSAGE, RELAX AROMATHERAPY MASSAGE and HAIR FOR MEN AND WO
