I Only Have Fifteen Pounds

Lucy Wylie

It happened years ago, but I remember it well and it still rankles. That was the year I realised I was truly a country bumpkin and as green as they came.

My friend and I were enjoying a weeks holiday in London, our first trip there and we had made a list of everywhere we should visit. We had done Buckingham Palace, The Tower of London, the Old Bailey, the houses of Parliament and by mid-week were slowly down just a little. It was I who suggested we take a stroll down Bond Street, window shopping of course, and take in the ambience as I put it.

Looking back I remember the salon was unimpressive from the outside, but in the window stood a very large photograph of a young woman, sporting the latest hair style; short with a gamine ragged fringe.

I wish I could have a hair cut like that I said. Id be years ahead in the fashion field back home

My friend an even cannier Scot than myself, suggested Why not go inside and ask the price of the cut. Maybe you could afford it.

The outside of the establishment might have been plain, but inside was definitely upmarket; all low lights, gold wall paper and soft music. Behind a glass counter stood a young woman with the longest red nails Id ever seen, who checked me from top to toe and judged by her raised eyebrows found me wanting.

Modom?

I explained my presence and was surprised to find the cost of such a cut would be Five Pounds; given the year was 1961, it was remarkably reasonable for such an establishment. When could I have it done?

If Modom would take a seat Monsieur Jamie would be with her presently.

So it came about that my companion Betty, left to do more window shopping and return in an hour, whilst yours truly awaited Monsieur Jamie.

I moved into the main salon and found myself surrounded by what I felt sure must be Film Stars, each one looking more gorgeous than the other.

Modom?

He approached, a tall thin young man, frowning and scrutinising me as if hed discovered some unusual specimen of womanhood

Modom would like a cut?

Yes I affirmed and pointing to the window like she has in the picture in your window. I considered adding please but decided Id play it cool, haughty like.

His frown deepened. He ran his fingers through my thin, mousey, hair and sighed. Then as if God and he had conferred and hed been given the answer

If Modom would permit a few curls and perhaps a highlight or two? WellModom ConsideredA few curls? Must mean to use tongs. Highlights? What on earth were they? How much extra would all that cost? Probably another five pounds. Well I could manage that couldnt I?

Here I must admit to never having heard of a cold perm nor gold tips, let alone their likely cost. Beginning to feel more excited by the minute I agreed and moved into a cubicle.

I cannot recall quite when alarm bells began to ring, I mean cost worries. Probably after the curls were being rinsed out for the second time and the words cold perm floated into my mind. God Ive had a perm. One of those new fangle types. That might be really expensive.

It was then that Betty appeared.

What on earth are you having done? Ive been waiting outside for ages. Youve not had a perm?! And whats with the tinfoil?

Trying to appear in charge I replied Im having a few highlights. Once the tinfoil is removed I shall have strips of blond throughout my hair. Nothing brassy. Just very smart,

Then casually. How much do you have with you? I think the bill might be around Fifteen Pounds, not FiveI only have ten pounds with me.

She handed me a five pound note. All I have. Im off back to the hotel. Then superciliously Do you think youll manage to navigate the tube back to Blythswood Square? and off she went.

Jamie fussed with my hair for some time, then stood back and actually smiled Modom looks tres chic. She has ze elfin, oval face to set off ze style. I looked in the mirror and scarcely recognised myself. My elfin face was framed in soft curls and yes, there was that ragged fringe and those gold streaks. I was a wow! Thanks You, thank you I gushed Its lovely; could I have the bill please?

I shall never forget that moment. The figures danced before my eyes seventy-five pounds! I was standing now in the middle of the salon and as if some sort of drama had been scented, all eyes were fixed on me.

Talk about Oliver Twist and his please sir, can I have some more? speech. Mine was a bigger show stopper.

Im sorry I cant pay. I only have fifteen pounds. Then indignantly you said it would only cost Five Pounds when I booked in.

The manager was called Madam could pay by cheque.

I dont have a cheque book.

A positive gasp rang around the room.

My friend and I could return tomorrow and make up the difference. Please trust me There I stood a wee lassie from Scotland, pathetic by honest.

He believed me and the next day we returned and handed over sixty pounds.

Sadly we were very short of cash for the last few days in London. Had to tag on to an American Woman Tourist in the hotel, whom we disliked, but who kindly bought us two lunches. On our last afternoon we sat through three screenings of a movie. Well; it was cold and wet outside and the train departure was quite some time away.

Theres a happy ending to this tale of woe. When I returned to Scotland and my office, a young man whom I had admired from afar, but who had never cast a glance in my direction, stopped and remarked Love the hair do. Could I buy you lunch some time?

I married that young man and until he died a few years ago we lived Happily Ever After.