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An Ode to Black Hair Salons

Not unlike vaginal waxing, eyebrow threading and – I dunno – childbirth I guess, it’s one of those things that you don’t have to do and you’d rather not have to do… but it kind of has to be done. It's time to get your hair did.

We'll start with the prep work you have to do prior to the day. You ring 'Aunty' to let her know you're coming. You arrange a day, a time and a hairstyle.

If hair needs to be bought you buy the bundles, while artfully trying to avoid client poachers from nearby salons. If you're a risky mofo like me, you'll buy it minutes before the appointment and hope for the best. For the fainter of heart, you buy it from a week to a few days prior.

The day comes. Game time. I hope you've written off absolutely every pending commitment because it will take all day. I don't care if you're just getting a relaxer put in, it will take ALL. DAY.

I say this because you'll have agreed with Aunty to start at 11am but for good measure you'll have come at 11:15. Despite your precautions, Aunty will ignore your calls and texts and walk through the door at 1.30pm. Oh and she'll have quadruple-booked herself so prepare for her to get started on your kinky twists after two sew-ins and a press and curl.

Every time she does this you want to yell and threaten to take away your custom but by this point, you'll have forged a strong enough relationship to know that nobody else can do your hair this well for this price. Face it, you need her.