Salon of Hair & Joy

By Graeme McGregor 2021

The centre of gossip throughout the land focused on the extensive 'glasshouse' on the foreshore of the coastal city of Greytown that the proprietor insisted was merely a hair salon for women with exquisite and expensive tastes.

Rumour insisted it was a female brothel for the wealthy, although salon patrons prepared to comment insisted that rumour was absolute rubbish.

Another rumour alleged it was an exotic palace where well-heeled women went to gossip and partake in cannabis and other social dope.

Known regular patrons, questioned by inquisitive media journalists who believed they were on to something big, denied that use of illegal drugs was in evidence in the locally named Palace of Joy.

That resulted in a new question by the frustrated media: 'Then what do you do in that glasshouse of one-way glass where we are refused admission?'

Patrons questioned all said it's where they get their hair done.

Helpless journalists argued something big was going on as expensive cars in the parking lot clearly outnumbered the small number of medium sized EVs, frugal minis or yesteryear's models.

The answer to that was New Zealand women were driving up to 200 miles to get their hair done at the huge seaside glasshouse, tend to be wealthy with an uninhibited outlook.

The Mayor of Greytown was finally pressured into ordering an unscheduled health and safety inspection of the premises despite claims that everything going on in there was above the board, according to his wife and his mother, who were paid-up-patrons of the Salon of Hair and Joy.

The chief inspector of health reported it was clearly the most expensively decorated and furnished business premise in the city. The activity observed was clearly in accordance within the terms of the operating licence, which was hairdressing and relaxation exercising.

The signed off report by the chief inspector, Mrs Staples, included the comment that no evidence of illegal drug-taking or prostitution was observed.

But still the rumours persisted and flared when a former member of the Salon of Hair and Joy sensationally declared in a published newspaper story that many women spent all their time in the Salon wearing only a skimpy thong and others could be seen having their pubic hair maintained or completely shaven.

The woman tattler, whose name was withheld on request, admitted having her membership terminated, and her wrist implanted microchip necessary to gain admission into the secured building, removed after she'd lost her temper and pulled the hair of a woman who'd annoyed her, removing hair and part of scalp skin.

Public outrage circulated over such vicious behaviour, leading to a national TV station offering the proprietor of the business, Mrs Jenny Foxx, $50,000, for a 15-minute live interview.

She agreed to be interviewed in the interest of the propriety of the business, but said $50,000 was an obscene amount. She would accept a $20,000 fee payable to the Red Cross relief fund for assistance to families in extreme need arising from the occasional community lockdowns to control the spread of the Covid-19 virus.

The TV station agreed and assigned its top interviewer, Reginald T. Carson. to interview Mrs Foxx as the interview was expected to draw a record number of viewers due to the controversy involving expensive cars, wealthy women, allegations of sex, drug-taking and pubic grooming and, of course, creative hair-dressing.

Promotion of the upcoming interview led to TV networks in five other countries applying for screening rights of the interview.

The big night arrived, with the interview screening at 7.00 immediately after the main news bulletin, which was peak viewing time.

'Reggie C' (Mr Carson's stage name) was wearing a tux instead of his usual snappy Italian blue or grey suit and he and viewers must have been disappointed when Mrs Foxx walked to the interviewee's chair dressed as if she was going shopping rather than in formal attire appropriate for appearing before the nation. However, her sculptured hair was beautifully done.

"Welcome to Viewing with Reggie C, Mrs Foxx or may I call you Jen?"

"Jenny or Mrs Foxx will be fine."

"Oh, er what do you prefer?"

"For you to start the interview would be just fine."

"Right, over to your Reggie C."

"Ah, do you permit prostitution in your business premises that people outside can't see through the one-way viewing glass?"

"That's an erroneous view of my business which is a temple-like place of hairdressing and relaxing exercise."

"Meaning, Jenny?"

"To put it nicely, Mr Carson, you media people have been misled by false rumours."

"Couldn't sex be classified as a relaxing exercise?"

"In Missionary perhaps, but Mr Carson, sex for relaxation where it exists and paid-for-sex are two different things and neither are permitted activities at my salon."

"Ah, so sex is not permitted on your premises."

"Correct. Our relaxing exercise is principally yoga involving either a person exercising solo or with no more than one person to assist. The two persons could be wearing only a thong and I guess it could, to some degree lead toward serene sexual-like involvement enacted, at both participants' discretion and knowing they were in view of other occupants of the premises."

"As management, we don't police how yoga is carried out any more than the supervisor in our or, for that matter, in any other hair salon, would police how precisely each hairdresser touches the hair of her client."

"Ah, so you do permit sex?"

"You already have received my explanation, Mr Carson or as you childishly prefer, Reggie C. May I explain the concept and development of my business?"

"Oh yes please, ma'am."

"I worked nine years from the age of 17 to qualify and then practice as a hairdresser and came to the conclusion that a hair-dressing salon could offer women prepared to pay for it a far greater inspiring and joyful experience. A few years later when I talked to my husband John, an electronics specialist, about it he said, "On the lines of an ancient Grecian Spa?"

"I recall yelling 'Yes, that's it in concept,' realizing he'd lifted my concept up a few more notches."

"We discussed building design and layout at length, probably in excess of 100 hours including the finer detail. Obviously, a solid stone temple-like structure of ancient spas was hugely outdated and so we opted to glass and steel framing."

"Then John said why not specify to the designers a totally tempered glass exterior and roofing. I said excitedly yes, and the operation would have to be at two levels because of the high cost of seafront land as I wanted my clients sitting in their luxurious chairs and looking out into the ocean and the interesting activity upon it as well as room for relaxation chatting or performing yoga. I realised the importance of having my intended enriched-clients feeling they and their inside and outside environment were as one."

"My father is a professional investor. I asked him to be my lender. When I told him of the estimated cost he reeled, and said, quote, 'what the fuck are you planning to build, a structure encrusted in diamonds."

"I said no, just a super luxurious hair salon and he said hmm, he needed to see sketch plans and proposed specifications. Meanwhile, John had come up with his own joint-business idea. He said why not install the latest electronic features and promote them to my wealthy clients when modifying their homes or rebuilding again."

"First, in selling the idea to me in non-technical language stating why walk into a dark room and fiddle around for the light switch when, if you have the money, you can get the lights to switch on upon entering or, as the last occupant leaving a room, switch off electronically via sensors, and the same applied to switching TV or music centre on and off. And why not have window blinds, curtains and drapes adjusted electronically?"

"I was half sold on the idea and then the cunning sod said he'd pay for all the electronics and installation as part of his business promotion costs. Proceed, I said, patting his clever head."

"Ah, I can see where this is heading," Reggie C said smugly.

"Dad was mightily impressed when shown everything and I was impressed, because his business was analysing and judging the market for prospective new investments. He said he'd advance me the money at a reduced interest rate on one condition, that I personally do his hair in my swanky new salon. I said yes, but it would have to be after opening hours because no males would be admitted beyond the screened off entrance foyer. He said that suited him."

"Okay, I knew I was taking a huge risk, but then I knew women. Also, my father he done some basic market research on my better-heeled regular clients, asking would they pay three times or more for hair grooming in premises that were three times or more exotic than the premises they usually patronized. Many of clients groomed regularly in my old conventional salon were generally wildly enthusiastic when I described my overall plan to them."

"And so, it has come to be and my head continues to be well above water financially and that includes regular deductions from cash flow to reduce my loan debt."

"Right, said Reggie C, you've heavily soaked up time. This picture on screen is the exterior of your building. It looks gross and uninteresting."

Jenny: Who really cares?

Reggie C: This picture shows eight luxurious chairs, all facing out to sea, but I note only three are in use.

Jenny: Usually five or six are in continual use daily. Occasionally, at times of major events, all eight are in use. My objective in design and fitting out was not to disappoint. New clients are amazed by the sea and sky views and mostly by what they see on both sides of the premises. Almost all initially say the same thing, looking around as the expensive fittings, 'I've never seen anything else to match this'. Then they say something like 'Omigod, I can even do yoga in this exclusively palace for women'."

Reggie C: I bet you just made that up."

Jenny (coolly): Reggie darling, are you calling me a liar?

Reggie : Good heavens no. Um, I was jesting. Um time is almost up. Do your clients come from up to 200 miles away?

Jenny: Actually, some come from farther away but irregularly. Our distant clients get a discounted rate if they are staying at the Grand Waterfront Hotel.

Reggie C: Good heavens, how women are prepared to splash money around.

Jenny: It's impossible to deny that, and is similar to men splashing out to travel 1000 miles to see a boxing match or a football final or to question the logic of why do they splash out on a tight Italian suit that will be feeling a little tight for them on as early as the third time of wearing it.

Reggie C (laughing): You are quite a character, Jenny. I feel you deserve your success in giving women who can afford it, a super cool oasis to get their hair groomed and prance about wearing only a thong if they wish. Even the tubby ones must feel a little like a princess. Thank you for coming here tonight and being so frank.

Jenny: Thank you. I needed to defend my business and my clients who are treated like princesses. I guess you get a new Italian-cut suit whenever the present one gets tight. Way to go, Reginald.

Over the next couple of days, Jenny received a huge number of phone calls and emails congratulating her on defending her business and her clients, many inquiring about becoming registered patrons of her restricted-entry salon.

One of the first to congratulate her was Mayor Fred Prime. He said she'd done a great job for the city and display great personal business acumen and professionalism.

The chairman of membership of the Chamber of Commerce of which Jenny was a member called with congratulations and inviting her on behalf of the president who was overseas, to fill a vacancy on the business promotion committee. She accepted.

Finally, Jenny made her biggest concession of all. The wife of the managing editor of the Greytown Herald, after having her hair done, found Jenny making coffee for two clients waiting for the next stage of their hair grooming.

"Hi, Jenny love."

"Hi Thelma, how's the strain from yoga going?"

"God, you have a fabulous memory. That occurred five weeks ago and I'm almost fully recovered. Ron my husband has sucked up to me to do my best to convince you to allow the newspaper to do a full double spread of the interior activities of your salon plus a front-page picture of you with your barracks-like building in the background."

"Who's calling it barracks-like?"

"It was me, on the spur of the moment."

"Well from you that's only just acceptable. Had he called it that, I would have told him to get knotted. Tell him yes, the reporter and the photographer must be female and only still photos are permitted in this agreement and no pictures showing bare-breasted women, which as you know comprise most of regulars, shall be published even with a black band or digital editing of the tits."

"Jenny, shouldn't you have said breasts?"

"Why, isn't the word tits more dynamic than breasts when talking woman to woman compared with the pathetic word boobs?"

"Hmm. I'm inclined to agree. Um, we'll be asking your John to send a man to our home to quote on the conversion of our TV switching, some of our lights and the main blind and drapes in our bedroom to be converted to electronic activated switching."

"What, as a bribe? I say that although having decided already to agree to the newspaper doing the requested feature."

"No darling, it's not a bribe. it's because I'm used to the electronic switching here but never thought of having those upmarket aids installed in our house until you mentioned on TV they could be a consideration when rebuilding or planning home renovations."

"Let me ask my husband John to arrange one of his females to come to you and begin the quotation process. I'm doing this especially for you because you are the epitome of loyal client, Thelma," said Jenny, pulling out her phone.

"Obviously, we should have some signage around here promoting the conversion of lighting and other household switching, rather than relying on just self-motivated enquiries. And may I fetch you coffee while you sit enjoying the fabulous seascape?"

Jenny was delighted with the published newspaper spread of the salon and the photographer who daringly invited to stand for the frontpage photo wearing just a thong received a polite no, but was complimented for having the guts to make such an inspired request. She had her wrist implanted with a mini-admission microchip entitling her to six complimentary visits for services of her choice at the salon.

The End