Les Coiffures

I have been learning French for eight years.  At school, I have learned something like 12 tenses and a lot of vocabulary about weather, music, philosophy, and racism.  Some days here in France I don’t need to plan my sentences and the complex tenses just flow.  Other days everything is a mess and I can’t even understand what I am saying, and neither can the people with whom I am talking.  So far, I have not encountered the French stereotype that all agreement errors and pronunciations are corrected vociferously.  However, I have noticed that if I say a word slightly incorrectly, people will have no idea what I mean.  The French seem to be unable to infer what I mean by any ever-so-slightly elongated vowel. 

While I successfully (sometimes) discuss politics and American obesity statistics, I am unable to discuss possible hairstyles at our local coiffure (hair salon).  Coiffures are ubiquitous in each small town and seem to have the same prevalence in France as coffee shops in Vancouver.  That’s a lot.  On our free day in Provence, my mum, Georgie and I decided to get much-needed haircuts.  The first two places we looked at were rejected because they were “trop chic” (hint, the p is silent).  The third place was also more upscale than some of us prefer, but they advertised being eco-friendly so we entered. 

The hairdressers were very pleasant, asking us in detail how short we wanted our hair, what style, and a bunch of other questions that were incomprehensible to me.  They were also very carful to ask us about how much they were to be cutting off and would ask us periodically for input.  They would kind of grimace at our anwers and then they continued cutting exactly how they wanted to anyway. 

After my hairdresser had finished with my hair, she proudly showed me my reflection and exclaimed “c’est meilleur maintenant” (it’s better now).  Now I had chic French hair—hair that is flamboyant and has as much personality as possible, which my curly hair does quite naturally.  Interestingly, this French look is in direct contrast with the gelled helmet look popular in North America.  Afterwards, everyone in the salon agreed that my hair looked better after their ministrations and that I knew how to replicate “the look”.  Now the three of us are indistinguishable from the truly French, what with our high-heeled leather boots, chic coats, scarves, and our flawless French accent (ha!).