Hair&Life

Thirty-Five Years of Conversations;

When people ask me what I offer as a private hairdresser, the answer has never really been just hair.

For over thirty-five years, I have walked through thousands of front doors. Every home has its own energy, every family its own story, and every client their own journey. I learnt very quickly that before I even picked up my scissors, I had to make people feel comfortable with me being in their home. I had to drop into their world, read the room and simply be present. Hair was always the reason we met, but it was the conversations that built the relationship.

Hairdressing became my education in people. It taught me how to listen, not just hear. There is a big difference.

Most of my clients have been women, and I have had the privilege of watching generations grow up. I have listened to stories of love, marriage, divorce, children, illness, grief, business, success, failure and everything in between. I have watched women give up successful careers so their partners could chase their dreams, only to find themselves years later rebuilding their own lives. I have watched mothers put themselves last so their children could have every opportunity. Then I have watched many of those same women become stronger, wiser and happier than ever before, supported by incredible female friendships that carried them through some of life's toughest moments.

Those conversations shaped me.

They taught me not to judge people because we never truly know what someone is carrying. They taught me compassion, patience and the importance of simply listening. Every client has left a little footprint somewhere in my own journey.

Over the years, I have looked after politicians, lawyers, doctors, business owners, celebrities and entrepreneurs. For several years, the founder of Honey Birdette was my client while we were both living in Vaucluse. Around the same time, I was also looking after a very wealthy client. I found myself having to tell him a little white lie, something I hated doing because lying has never sat comfortably with me. He later invested fifty million dollars into Honey Birdette, and around eight years later the business was sold to Playboy for hundreds of millions. Looking back, if I had been thinking like a businessman, perhaps I should have asked for a few shares before telling that white lie. I have always preferred to see the good in people and watch them succeed.

But seriously... where's my Range Rover? Haha.

People often ask me how I have worked with so many well-known people over the years.

The answer is trust.

Clients have shared things with me that nobody else knows. Secrets, fears, dreams, affairs, financial worries, family problems and moments of incredible joy. In over thirty-five years, I have never repeated those conversations. Not once. I often joke that if I had, I would probably have had bricks tied to my legs and ended up at the bottom of the ocean. The truth is much simpler than that. Trust is everything. Once it is broken, you never truly get it back.

My curiosity about people eventually led me to study yoga, meditation, movement, psychology, and relationships, and to become a qualified Somatic Sexology Practitioner. That work is completely separate from my hairdressing business, but it simply gave structure and language to much of what I had already learnt after decades of sitting with thousands of people and hearing their life stories.

Looking back, I realise I have never just been cutting hair.

I have been sitting beside people through divorce, illness, business success, family celebrations, heartbreak, new relationships, pregnancy, loss and new beginnings. Sometimes people wanted advice. Most of the time they simply wanted someone to listen without trying to fix them.

I believe that is the real gift of being a private hairdresser.

Yes, I create beautiful hair.

But more importantly, I create space where people can be themselves, laugh out loud, have tears in their eyes, meditate, and just be themselves, as most are anyway.

I have realised that the greatest transformation has rarely been the haircut.

It has always been the conversation.

In my private life I've become far less interested in people's status, what car they drive or how much money they have. I'm drawn to people who have explored their inner world, who are grounded, have a healthy mind and are simply nice to be around. I love people who make time for themselves, who enjoy movement, dancing, being in nature and who treat complete strangers with kindness. They're usually the people who make me feel at home. I can often tell a lot about someone before we've even spoken. The way they walk into a room, their posture, the way they hold themselves and the energy they bring tells me far more than the words that eventually come out of their mouth. I've always been fascinated by people, and I think after thirty-five years of working so closely with them, reading body language has become second nature.

I've never wanted to learn about life just by reading books. I've always believed in walking the talk. I've been lucky enough to experience some extraordinary moments along the way. I've partied with the Rolling Stones, found myself at a Pet Shop Boys birthday gathering with Madonna, Kenny Everett, Simon Le Bon and many others, hung out with Coldplay, played records with Boy George and celebrated with Take That. They were amazing experiences, but what stayed with me wasn't who they were; it was the realisation that once you strip away the fame, they're simply people like the rest of us, with insecurities, dreams, fears and a desire to be accepted.

Life has taken me down some interesting paths. I've probably seen more ghosts than roast dinners, explored death, sat through long meditation retreats in complete silence, lived through decades of hormone replacement therapy and all the emotional highs and lows that came with it, experienced periods of deep depression, moments of absolute ecstasy, built businesses, lost businesses and started again. None of those experiences came from reading someone else's story. They came from living my own, and I think that's why I relate to people the way I do. I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I understand what it's like to be at the top of the mountain one day and wondering how you'll get out of bed the next.

As I've got older, I've realised that one of the kindest things we can do for ourselves is choose carefully who we allow into our lives. Surround yourself with people who genuinely love you, challenge you, inspire you and celebrate your successes. Equally, have the courage to let go of the people who no longer serve you. We spend so much of our lives trying to keep everyone happy, explaining ourselves and apologising for saying no. I've learnt that "no" is a complete sentence.

None of us knows when it's our time to leave this physical body. I remember older generations saying, "Ducky, mind how you go." It's a lovely saying, but I'd probably add something to it. I'd say don't wait. Go and make mistakes. Go and laugh until your stomach hurts. Fall in love. Dance. Change your mind. Tell people to fuck off if they're treating you badly. Say no without feeling guilty. Be unapologetically yourself and tell the people around you that you love them while they're still here to hear it. Don't wait until you're standing around their ashes, or they're around yours, wishing you'd said what was in your heart. Life isn't a rehearsal. We've only got one shot at this, so don't waste it trying to live somebody else's version of a good life.