Tuesday, June 28, 2016
After yesterday’s drive up the road that shook the nerves, today is a completely lazy bum day of reading by the pool and not much else.
Bonaparte kindly suggested that since we are going to St. Tropez tomorrow to visit his dad that I just might want to make an appointment at a beauty salon and perhaps get my roots done and maybe get a blow out too.
Although I welcome this suggestion, I’m a bit hesitant because Adam, the stylist I go to and cannot live without, knows my hair; and he knows and understands about my hair loss issues. But after taking a look in the mirror of the hair that hasn’t been washed in two weeks, I think Bonaparte just may have a point.
And before hitting the pool, I grab my Toppik, and head to the car to drive to the salon.
On the way to Geant we pass my favorite house. The bubble house down the street. This isn’t the Pierre Cardin bubble house. It’s someone else’s…
We had to sneak up on the fence to snap these pics. Look–the bubbles look like titties. I’m so in love with these little glass nipples…
I want to caress these windows. Seriously. I love this house!
The galerie at Geant has a few hair salons, but I decided to make an appointment at Franck Provost. I’ve seen his chain of salons all over Paris and figured it was a safe bet.
How pathetic is this? OTHER bloggers take artsy pics. I take pics of hypermarches.
Ladies and men. If you are in the area of Theoule-sur-Mer, might I suggest a hair appointment at Franck Provost?
I don’t care how uneducated I may be in the French language, but when it comes to making a hair appointment, I miraculously became quite fluent.
Me: “Bonjour. Je voudrais prendre rendez-vous pour un teinture, shampooing, conditionné et séchés .” “Pouvez-vous blow dry mes cheveux d’une façon ondulée?” “Oh. Et je dois la perte de cheveux , mais je dois produit à déguiser .” “D’accord?” “A 17h30 ?” “S’il vous plait?”
Translation: Good Morning. I would like to make an appointment to have my hair colored, shampooed, conditioned and blow dried. Can you also blow my hair out in beachy waves?Oh. And I have hair loss but I have product to disguise. OK? At 5:30 PM? Please?
Frenchman at front desk: “Nom?”
Me: “Cat-reen” “Merci!”
Easy peasy. A bit of grocery shopping, back to the apartment to change and…
Let’s see. Fake sugar is always on my list. I have these in every purse!
Lest we not forget the importance of Cassis..
I know..This isn’t food porn. It is merely saucisson! Now you know why I love Geant!
…and I have no idea who is going to receive this little pop-up card but I HAD to get it!
..back at the pool. I gave “The Little Paris Bookshop” a final chance. I’m telling you. This book was almost as painful to read as “The Scarlet Letter” was.
Back at the pool to do nothing but sit on my fat ass and read and suffer from hypochondria!
I’m not going to give you “spoilers” but this was one of the worst books I’ve never finished reading. The characters were not endearing. The book was poorly written AND one of the characters had a disease!
The disease is what threw me over the edge. Look, I have nothing against tragedies. “Me Before You” was one of my favorite tragic books of all times—but it was about a tragic accident. It wasn’t about a disease.
Books that are about awful diseases should carry a warning on the front cover. You know-like “smoking is bad for your health”. These books should state the following:
Warning: This book contains a horrible disease. Hypochondriacs may become affected. They may also be prone to checking certain body parts multiple times a day and become stressed and anxious. Therefore if you or a loved one suffer from hypochondria, this book may be harmful to your health.
People at the pool started to stare at me because I sat in my chaise with a horrified look while checking my armpits for hours on end.
When we got back to the apartment, I placed the book on the shelf where I’ve left books in the past. Apparently the owner of the apartment gets a kick out of this practice of mine because books I’ve left have remained on the shelf since 2010.
These are the books that I’ve left over the years. Little Paris Bookshop was the only one I despised!
This was the only book that I left with a note inside about how much I disliked it. I even left my email address for anyone who does decide to read it to let me know what they think of the book.
Travel tip: If you like to read during your vacation’s or travel’s downtime, and finish a book or two, leave them behind or give them to someone. It’ll lighten your luggage on the way home and can give another visitor something to do during their downtime! Play it forward!
Thankfully, I remembered my hair appointment. It distracted me from checking my armpits.
While I got my hair done, Bonaparte drove into Cannes to pick up wine from Nicolas. I entered Franck Provost smiling and happy because, hopefully, the staff would make me look human again.
Irene was my stylist. She was an adorable pixie of a woman with a raspy voice and smelled of cigarettes and perfume. A scent I was familiar with due to Danièle’s penchant for Marlboro lights and L’Heure Bleu. The aroma actually made me feel quite comfortable. I took out my Toppik, pointed to the top of my head, winked, and told her “Apres color”. For some odd reason she understood me.
Oh. We were having a regular party here! By the time I was finished, the entire staff and I were just about dancing around the salon!
My experience at Franck Provost was remarkable.
This tiny little salon worked great big hair miracles!
My roots were completely covered and as I waited for the color to set in, I was able to observe the goings on at this tiny salon just feet from my beloved hypermarché. I watched a young girl with a gorgeous head of hair get her hair trimmed and blown out to tousled perfection. Older women with various shades of dyed hair entered for touch ups. Apparently women on the Cote d’Azur aren’t into the gray look! I fit right in!
The staff was incredibly friendly and kept coming up to me to see if everything was ok. I was in heaven!
With all due respect to American hair stylists, Irene shampooed my hair so gently that I almost fell asleep. Rather than a rough shampoo scrub, it was more like a gentle shampoo massage. In addition, it took my YEARS to find Adam–he knows how to blow dry coarse hair. I cannot begin to tell you how many USA stylists do NOT know how to give a great blow dry job!
The final cost for the shampoo, deep conditioner, color and blow out came to 75€. Tipping wasn’t allowed on the credit card and tipping is much different than here, I gave a 5€ tip—and it didn’t make me look cheap either.
Let’s do math. The 80 euros I spent in total for my hair came to the USD equivalent of $88.12. I normally pay $140.00 for the same services here in the States.
Does this hair not look fabulous? I hope Irene is back next summer! She’s my hair bestie!
Happy with my hair. I can’t wait to see Bonaparte’s dad Dany tomorrow. But now—it is aperitif time!
Here’s a cute song I found from The Hot Sardines: “French Fries and Champagne”!