The chair: Colorist or therapist? In the client-stylist relationship, sometimes it’s hard to tell.

by Sharon Steel, 05-05-2008

WHEN JESSICA Simpson’s fairy-tale Newlyweds romance came crashing down on her hot-rollered head, she found public comfort in a trusted companion. But it wasn’t one of the usual suspects — Papa Joe, for example, or little sis Ashlee. In fact, Jessica’s go-to BFF was her hairstylist, Ken Paves. Right around her separation and divorce from Nick Lachey, you’d have been hard-pressed to find a paparazzi pic of Simpson without Paves sharing the frame, helpfully filling the empty space by her side. “I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it weren’t for his daily encouragement,” the pop star told People. Their friendship was further strengthened when Paves introduced Simpson to Operation Smile, inspiring her to take on the mantle of International Youth Ambassador. Soon, the duo partnered with Hair U Wear and launched a brand of hair extensions. Simpson wasn’t merely Paves’s premier celebrity client anymore — she was his business partner. And he wasn’t just the dude who made sure her hair looked perfect on the red carpet — he was her confidante, a person she credits with changing her life.

Even though her love life was nowhere near perfect, having Paves around meant Simpson’s hair always was. It was one less thing for her to worry about, and many of us who lack an on-call stylist do worry — a lot — about our hair. It’s always too much or too little of something: too plain, too unruly, too curly, too straight, too thick, too thin. We dye, tease, pouf, straighten, kink, and coax our hair into configurations that defy gravity, weather conditions, or natural genetics. Others go to even greater lengths to achieve their goals, taking hormone-suppressing pills to keep their hairlines from receding, forking over hundreds — even thousands — on high-end products, glosses, weaves, treatments, and tools.

So the salon can be a comforting escape, a place where the person cutting your hair is basically a trusted friend with skilled benefits. But it can just as easily seem terrifying, full of scissor-happy, ego-charged artistes just waiting to contradict your wishes and snip away at your dearest hair fantasies. This is exactly why a client’s relationship with his or her stylist can be such a loaded one. “You can change your outfit and you can change your makeup, but your hair is something you wear every day,” says Laurel Ciarcia, a senior colorist at Vidal Sassoon Hair Salon (14 Newbury Street, Boston, 617.536.5496). “And it’s out there.”

Mental hand-holding
Anyone who does hair for a living knows that the chair is a vulnerable place to be. “When you’re touching someone’s hair, you’re in pretty close with them,” says Vincent Cox, senior stylist and artistic director at Salon Àcôté (132 Newbury Street, Boston, 617.262.5111). Patients might see a psychologist or therapist for a long period before they begin divulging intimate details, Cox says, “but when you’re cutting someone’s hair, you’ve already broken down the walls, and you’ve already established that close relationship. They’ve already opened up their defenses.”

But if there’s any real pressure, it’s on the stylist. They must, for all intents and purposes, read a client, new or old, and analyze his or her look and needs — quickly and intensely, the way people do on first dates. Most stylists say they hone this skill over time, and that it always boils down to communication and body language. It begins with the consultation, the Q&A portion of all hair appointments. At Àcôté, Cox sits down with his clients before they get their hair wet and change into a robe so he can asses their personal style and use that to inspire his work. Àcôté also tries to match clients with stylists with a similar aesthetic. “You don’t want to have someone coming in that’s conservative Burberry,” notes Cox, “and put them with someone that’s pierced and looks like they got into a fishing accident!”

Cindy Mena, director and educator at James Joseph Salon (30 Newbury Street, Boston, 617.266.7222), says it’s crucial to be able to sense a client’s fear. These people call for mental hand-holding that will push them in a fresh direction or simply allow them to let someone new touch their beloved locks. “A lot of clients are very emotional about their hair,” says Mena, “and you have to be sensitive to that.”

Constructive criticism for your hair
Gisele Bündchen is something of a modern Brigitte Bardot for the Victoria’s Secret–obsessed. Having a ’do that mirrored her messy-on-purpose-sexy-bedroom-hair was, for a while, an ambition that ran rampant among salon clients. From the mid-’90s Rachel-from-Friends layered sweep to the current “Pob” phenomenon, stylists are accustomed to their clients’ urges to clone themselves into beautiful famous people. Ever brought a magazine ad to your appointment and whipped it out to give your stylist a “idea” of what you wanted, secretly hoping that the cut would transform you into the gorgeous, airbrushed-to-impossible-standards creature in the photograph? There’s a good chance your hairdresser knew exactly what you were thinking. The last thing they want is to disappoint you; problem is, says Mena, “not everyone can look like Gisele.” Before a stylist can even cut your hair, it’s her job to help you manage — and sometimes let go of — your expectations.

“It’s about being realistic,” says Jeremy Dellaria, a senior stylist and co-owner of Salon Marc Harris (30 Newbury Street, Boston, 617.262.2222). “It’s helping them understand realistically what they can achieve in one sitting, in one given appointment.”

It might sound thrilling to go from deep brunette to platinum blonde in a day, but styling hair isn’t the equivalent of a quickie. In any long-term relationship, patience is key on both sides. That let-down feeling you might have the day after a great cut when, after you blow-dry your hair all by yourself, it falls flat in comparison? It’s not necessarily an indication that your stylist sucks — they might just need more than a single visit to get your hair to synch up with the vision you have for it. “I tell clients, you don’t want this haircut to be a one-time deal. You want to have a plan,” says Cox.

Once that relationship is established, there are moments when stylists say they subtly temper their clients’ demands with their own knowledge and technique. It’s constructive criticism for your hair.

“A great friend isn’t going to let you leave the house with that skirt on or those pumps or with that purse,” says Dellaria. “Your stylist should be able to interject and say the same things as you build that rapport with them. Like, ‘No, darling, you cannot wear those bangs!’ ‘Look, darling, we need some highlights in that hair!’ Hopefully they’ll understand that we, as stylists, are looking out for their best interests. I think that happens over time.”

On the TLC makeover show What Not to Wear, it’s easy to tell that stylist Nick Arrojo’s favorite fashion victims are the ones who, when they arrive at his salon, squeeze their eyes shut and say, “Do what you want! I trust you!” It takes guts, a nonconformist, or a crazy combination to allow someone you barely know to have their way with your appearance — and it’s a quality that stylists admit draws them to particular clients. “I really enjoy a client who allows me the flexibility to be creative,” says Heidi Shvetz, a senior colorist at I Soci Salon (8 Newbury Street, Boston, 617.867.9484).

Dellaria, too, says he gets “a charge” when someone gives him free rein. “You really want to knock [their] socks off,” he says. “That’s an invigorating, exciting event, and it doesn’t happen all that often.” Dellaria can recall situations when he’s known “in my heart of hearts” that a client would be much better off with an even shorter cut, or a little more shape. Still, he says, it comes down to being flexible. “If I’m able to make my client happy, that’s instant gratification for me.”

Civility and self-restraint
Salons aren’t usually quiet spaces. With half the room firing up blow-dryers at any given time, there’s always a noisy discourse running above the din. A fair share of bonding can happen under those circumstances, and most stylists say they’ve heard it all. “I think when they finally trust you to do their hair, they have enough trust to tell you their deepest, darkest secrets,” says Mena, adding, “I’ve heard things that would end marriages.”

Last December, the Mario Russo Salon (9 Newbury Street, Boston, 617.424.6676; 234 Berkeley Street, Boston, 617.266.4485) was the subject of a New York Times piece about what is, essentially, a salon’s gossip policy. At Mario Russo, stylists are required to keep conversation strictly focused on clients and their hair, rather than personal matters. “We train our staff to do the utmost five-star service focusing on the clients’ needs that have to do with their hair,” says owner Mario Russo, who does see some of his long-term clients socially. “It’s proved very successful here.”

Mena and Ciarcia, though they’re happy to listen to clients talk about their personal lives while they work, prefer to keep the interaction inside the salon. But Dellaria’s first-ever client, Nan Regina, with whom he’s worked for the 18 years he’s been in the business, has became one of his good friends. “We’re always talking about babies and weddings and his life and my life,” Regina says. “He’s interested in having you leave 100-percent happy. If that means you’ve had a good time because you’ve yukked it up and been able to chat for awhile, that’s great. But with him, it’s absolutely about you and your hair. That’s what makes it work.”

These days, you don’t see Simpson and Paves photographed together very much, and that’s probably for the best. She’s moved on from Lachey, and the details of her courtship with Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo have garnered more press than the platonic one she maintains with Paves. He still styles Simpson’s hair, though, and one can assume that’s a testament to his talent and the fact that he has yet to blab to the tabloids behind her back. Is his heart really in it? Or is he just a master of celebrity diplomacy? Simpson might not be aware of it, but it’s probably a careful mix of both. This civility and self-restraint is what the best stylists learn early and carry throughout their careers. The rewards may be unconventional, but at the salon, they mean everything. “At this point, if Jeremy said to me, ‘I want to shave your head!’ ” Regina says of her stylist, “I would say, ‘Well — I think that could work. Let’s go for it.’ ” @

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