I am a lucky man.
I have the best mother, a wonderful wife, and four of the most amazing kids.
Throughout my working life I have been lucky too, not only in terms of success, but also in terms of the people I have been privileged to work with, and among those, few rank more highly than Vidal Sassoon.
As a small child, I was good at two things, creating colourful pictures, and telling tall stories, the kind of tales that some unimaginative people sometimes call lies.
As I grew up my talent for drawing and painting developed, I began to enjoy sculpture and design, and eventually, in my late teens, I discovered hairdressing. Unfortunately, I have to confess, that even approaching adulthood I found it a little to easy to spin the occasional yarn.
In 1976, when I was eighteen, I was lucky enough to secure a position as a trainee hairdresser within one of the world’s most famous hairdressing organisations. Yes, and without the need of even one tall story, through some trick of fate, some twist of life’s magical lemon, I landed a job with Vidal Sassoon. Both I and my mother were thrilled.
The first six months of my training were heaven, I had to work hard, but it soon became apparent that I had a natural flair, and as I was at last with kindred spirits, folk who knew, people who could not only see, but who would soon become the future, times were good.
Here I could drop names – Annie Humphreys – Christopher Brooker – there were always impressive creative people rushing around.
Now, I’d like to tell you that Vidal and I were close, you know, mates, but of course, we weren’t. In fact, during those first six months, I saw him only once, I accidentally spoke to him on the telephone, and I watched an interview he gave with Russell Harty on Thames TV.
Alas, the second six months in Bond Street were not so happy. I had been placed in the tutelage of a young but up-and-coming stylist who I shall call Petal, (that was not her name, but I can’t really call her Thorn can I?).
Petal was a cow and she made my life a misery, and at the end of my second six months, a year into the promised three, I started to take time off.
“I have a cold” – “The tube line was shut” – “I’ve had a tooth out” and worst of all “My mother is seriously ill”. How could I have told such a dreadful lie about my lovely Mum?
It was a Tuesday morning. Vidal Sassoon himself was on the premises, home after spending time in the USA. Everyone was excited. I had taken most of the previous week off on the pretence of looking after my sick parent. Petal was in a foul temper. I had been at work for an hour or so. I knew something was up, there were whisperings and glances, and then, while I was shampooing, the salon door opened and in walked my mother, smart and smiling and looking the picture of health.
I knew that I was in trouble of course, but also that I was quite highly thought of within the salon, and that despite the bullying attentions of ‘Petal’, I was actually doing rather well, so although I knew I had been found out and was bound to be severely reprimanded I clung on to hopes of keeping my job.
My mother, still smiling and looking dandy, sat down close to the brushed stainless steel reception desk; I tried not to catch her eye. When I’d finished shampooing, I was immediately summoned upstairs, to face my line manager I guessed. I heard voices. After a moment or two my mother joined me, I grinned at her sheepishly. Suddenly the door to the office that we were waiting outside opened, and standing in the doorway with my line manager, of all the people I didn’t want to see… was the headmaster, Vidal Sassoon.
That Tuesday morning for a full fifteen minutes, my mother and I were the sole focus of the busiest man I ever knew, Vidal Sassoon man sat with my line manager, my mother, and me, and talked with us - just us - for a full fifteen minutes. I remember feeling both very small and naughty, but also somehow very special.
I learned many lessons during that conversation, some obvious – don’t tell lies – if you have a problem, talk about it – and bullies never win. And I learned some less obvious lessons – no matter how important you become, always look after the kids - If people are looking up to you, don’t let them down –– and your mum is always on your side.
I am a better boss thanks to Vidal Sassoon, and I think I am a better son too!
‘Vidal Sassoon, The Movie’ is set for general release shortly. The film shows the great mans creativity, his sense of fun, his passion, his drive, and his lust for life… but it is personal anecdotes likes this that demonstrate his very human side.
I love my Mum and Vidal Sassoon.
PS… Although I moved out of London to Camberley in Surrey soon after I kept my job for a while after Petal lost hers.
No comments:
Post a Comment