Among the many other things I did over the weekend, I got my hair cut at an establishment called Jean Louis David. I walked in and was told that there would be a twenty-five minute wait, which was fine, but the receptionist was strangely insistent that I actually leave and return at the appointed time instead of waiting there for my turn. I left and snuck back in about eight minutes later and realized why this was the case: The shop has about fifteen hair-styling stations but only one two-person bench for waiting. I snagged it for myself and read an issue of Macworld until I was called.

I may have been in a stylish salon with a French name (or three French names), but what followed was strictly Supercuts (one name) treatment. The stylist washed my hair himself, with cold water, and he spent about three seconds each rubbing in the shampoo and conditioner. He then asked how I wanted my hair cut. I requested what I always do these days: a choppy look that is officially called "point cut" for reasons unknown (it is not pointy). The Jean Louis David stylist said he knew exactly what I meant and got down to work.

The last time I had a haircut, it took the stylist in the other salon about an hour of meticulous work with a scissor and razor blade to get it right. This time, it took somewhere around five minutes with a clipper. The result is okay. My hair is notoriously difficult to cut and style, so it does not look as bad as it could, but the best that could be said for it is that it is shorter.

I blame the French.

(I am taking a couple of days off of blogging to focus on some other work, but never fear! I have arranged for a guest blogger to pick up the slack. Tune in tomorrow, same bat time and all that.)