Search
Mistral EC
Mistral USA
La Coiffeuse. True story, not for respectable gentlewomen or others of a sensitive disposition and definitely no Wokes.
For the past two and a half decades living in glorious France I have generally had my hair cut at home by visiting coiffeuse (hair dressers, female).
Excellent, comfortable way of getting the job done and compared with driving, using fuel and parking, a less expensive option.
At our first home, le Manoir de Vaubondon, Brittany, our dear neighbours had a cousin who did an admirable 'group sitting' job and who charged so little I always felt compelled to discreetly give her a sizable tip. Out of sight and thus without embarrassing other family members.
And it is here it gets interesting. The hair cutting routine was a periodic, scheduled affair involving the whole extended family. All would duly troop into the enormous farmhouse scullery type room and sit around on wooden benches and upturned crates so as to watch the spectacle. Our dear, young and sweet coiffeuse would select her victims at random, so no one ever knew whose turn was next, It was impolite to turn up late. Tea, coffee and beer along with an occasional whisky would also appear. Stories exchanged. Lots of laughs.
Our coiffeuse could best be described as 'well rounded'. No she wasn't, she was enormous. If she ever fell over then she definitely would not land on her face. If you get the picture. Sorry Wokes but I told you not to read. OK! It gets worse!
Infants, small children and adults alike would be summoned to sit ahead of her and have their heads clamped, vice like, in the grip of her ample bosom. Rather like being ensconced in the luxurious interior of a Daimler Sovereign car, with those enormous winged, leather headrests.
No escape! She even managed to superbly fashion your hair at the front without losing her suction like grip from behind.
"Is this sort of smut REALLY necessary?" Do I hear you ask? Yes! Next question.
Anyway, we left Vaubondon, sadly, because we had rebuilt the Medieval pile of rubble to the point where it would never recover more value above what it was then worth and it had become a burden to maintain. I say sadly because we enjoyed so many wonderful times in the company of our neighbours. Feasting, holidaying and partying. Above all else, laughing! Indeed seventeen years after leaving we are still regularly in touch, with the survivors at least.
Where is this leading? We were invited to a grand birthday party and reunion last year and we met again our coiffeuse. She had added around ten or twelve centimetres in height (right direction then) and lost I would guess almost half her former adolescent weight. A gorgeous, slim young woman. I didn't recognize her at first.
Today, here in Mordreuc, beside the spectacular valley of the Rance Estuary, I enjoyed my quarterly shearing at the able clippers of young A#####. Also a very pretty, sweet and kind young woman with two young children. She chats away incessantly. I guess under the illusion that I understand at least half of what she is talking about.
1.6 metres (5' 2") tall, and a slight figure, so no risk of any head clamping. Even if I offered her a box to stand on. Just as well. For a man in my condition.
Best 80 Euros (£70) a year which I spend though. I always double it with a handsome tip, taking the annual cost up to 160 € each year. No embarrassment, no one knows except her and me, and she always tries to resist accepting it. Despite deserving, and needing, every cent.
Vive la France!
Bringing benefits of computerisation to our RAC industry - without the commonly associated problems.
Close and return to previous page