normally I come out of there bopping. Fréderic the hairdresser is little and gay and the salon is astrewn with orchids and does great coffee and the latest magazines.
Imagine my horror when he suddenly stopped cutting half way through and blowdrying for all he was worth - I looked in the mirror and lo and bloody behold - I had turned into Courtney Lurve. I told him I did not like it and he went all quiet and cross in a forced smiley sort of way and started cutting again. I now look like Princess Diana, all I need is a floated peter pan collared maternity dress to complete the image of her in the mid eighties.
I told him I would sleep on it (literally) and if needs be go back and he could go a step further and transform me into Annie Lennox.