#Clipper cut on women professional#

In the photograph you also see the bottle of clipper oil (for maintaining the clippers), the red cap to protect the clipper blades, a tiny battery-operated electric razor thing (which is good for getting rid of fluffy bits at the nape of the neck) and a pair of scissors (also good for neatening things up). In summer, when I’m swimming a lot, I might go a little shorter with a number 6 (three-quarters of an inch) on the top. The comb-like attachments are guards that determine the length of my cut: I tend to use a number 5 (five-eighths of an inch) on the back of my head and a number 7 (seven-eighths of an inch) on the top. I’ve not much to say about the clippers except that this is the widely available type that plugs into the wall, and that it seems to be a decent and reliable device, being the same one that Tom’s used for about a decade. You’ll no doubt be pleased to know that I felt like Father Ted this morning, and immediately addressed the situation. When my reflection in the mirror resembles that of Father Ted I know it’s time to get the clippers out. I tend to get the clippers out every month to six weeks, and my barometer of whether my hair needs seeing to or not is whether I wake up in the morning looking like this. Since embracing my natural grey a couple of years ago (when this photograph of me wearing St Catherines was taken), I’ve regularly shaved my head with a pair of clippers. But another way of thinking about it is that 22 years of home haircutting probably adds up to my disproportionately large coat collection. Occasionally I find myself reflecting on the money I’ve saved on haircuts over the years. Since the late ’90s I’ve worn my hair both short and long: when the former, I’ve generally shaved or clipped it, when the latter, I’ve simply trimmed away at it myself, with varying degrees of neatness and success. Here’s a couple of late ’90s attempts with a pair of hair clippers – and evidence of a shortlived and misguided experiment with some bleach.

It wasn’t until I’d been working for myself for a few years that I realised just how relieved I was to no longer have to teach.Īnyway, I began cutting my own hair in 1998 – which was, coincidentally around the same time that I met Tom. The fact that I didn’t like having my hair cut might suggest to you the undoubtedly rather extreme levels of my introversion, and here’s another indicator: however many years I spent in academic teaching, however good I got at hiding it, I can honestly say that I was never once able to relax or feel physically comfortable in an classroom. Back then, my issue with having my hair cut was rather that, having always found it difficult to be physically comfortable around people I didn’t know, the whole experience was always for me something of an ordeal. Indeed, I regard the styling of hair as one of the original textile arts (I wrote about this a wee bit in Handywoman). Now, this is not because I lack respect for hairdressers, or the craft of hairdressing – far from it. Before that, I’d never really enjoyed having my hair cut (I can’t honestly think of a single relaxing or enjoyable experience I’ve ever had in a hairdresser).

#Clipper cut on women professional#

You may be surprised to learn that the last professional haircut I had was back in 1998. Good morning! As a few of you have been asking, here I am sharing my simple and shonky methods of home haircutting – frankly not something I thought I’d ever do.