And yet it is precisely the gaze of those who are not assiduous visitors of our coiffeur that can better notice those details that the habituée will escape, absorbed by the daily relationship.

In this sense, therefore, I can thank the razor with which I weekly mow the sparse grass of the dry beds that cover my skull. Do-it-me allowed me to remain oblivious to everything that over the last 7 years has gravitated around the art of trichotomy and hair products.

It was indeed a small revelation to accompany my girlfriend to the hairdresser a few days ago. A small, personal epiphany.

Not that I expected everything to remain as it did then when I too went to have the tenacious hair that persisted in growing around the crown down at least as badly as possible.

I’m not a fool. The world changes and even the habits of the people at the hairdresser could only be changed during these years.

However, I was struck by the strange relationship established between the appointment with the hairdresser and the smartphone obsession.

A chick, who we will call Susy by convention, had just sat down at the sink for a nice head wash with organic shampoo just as my wife and I had entered the elegant salon in the center of Riccione.

A pretty young girl, Susy. Dressed simple, rather silent and that suggested, from the few words, a strong Apulian accent.

The subject of the appointment by the hair care specialist: a beautiful ceremony hairstyle. In short, a demanding and quality intervention, not a “quickie”.

The smartphone intervenes from the first briefings with the hairdresser.

I would have expected the classic (and complicated) explanation of the type: “only a trimming of length, with soft and not too aggressive curls, shatush camomile”.

No. I stayed behind. The description is obsolete, the words are demodé. No space for the creativity of the hairdresser: never let him understand whistles for flasks.

Now the categorical imperative is to pull out the phone and show your hairstylist some example images found on the internet. “I want them like this,” says Susy bluntly.

Other than the catalog: today Google Images is king. The hairdresser, more accustomed to this system than me, fixes the screen of the smartphone, nods with a boring head gesture and continues with the drying of Susy’s thick hair.

I thought I saw them all. Naive.

Instead, I discover, a few minutes later, that the smartphone is not just the 2.0 catalog for the modern hairdresser.

It also has a secondary (and, in my opinion, much more unbecoming) function: that of replacing the gossip session with the trusted professional.

If in fact once the spiciest truths about oneself, but above all about friends, enemies, and relatives, were revealed only to the priest and the village barber, today the priest is (perhaps) the only depository of the most unmentionable secrets. The hairdresser, on the other hand, often remains the victim of the estrangement from an internet connection of his clientele.

Our Susy, in fact, by now in the expert hands of the assistant hairstylist involved in curls, remains for the residual time with her head bent over the screen, headphones in her ears, watching Youtube videos and chatting on Facebook.

An obvious contra, for the hairdresser of the H3G era.

Although it must be said, there is also a pro (although minimal) to take into consideration: the typical position of the head of the smartphone: turned downwards, firm and concentrated on the screen. Little interactive with the hairstylist, but certainly ideal for the hairdresser intent on creating perfect curls.

In short, dear Susy: you will also be a little boiled to have your hair done by looking at the phone, but as a mannequin to make the ringlets you are perfect!

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