“My forehead is so massive.”

“Sorry my hair’s so gross and greasy!”

“God, my pores are huge.”

Maybe it’s the harsh lighting, the wet hair or just the fact that you turn up there specifically because you want work done to your hair. Either way, we’d put good money on the fact that you’ve said and thought things about your looks in front of your hair stylist that you wouldn’t dream of saying about a loved one, or even your worst enemy.

We’re certainly not here to judge or chastise you for it – let she who has never insulted herself and played it for laughs cast the first stone, after all. But what is it about the salon environment that brings out our very worst self-critics?

It’s ironic in a way; as Stuart Marsh, director at Taylor Taylor London’s Liberty salon, points out, most hairdressers will naturally be focusing on their core purpose: to make clients look and feel good. “But from time to time it can be daunting walking into an environment where trendy, stylish and confident individuals work every day,” Marsh adds. “Being sat in front of a full-length mirror for some of my clients doesn’t fill them with huge confidence. In fact, my most recent client felt that it was easier to sit in a less obvious space. She knew that when she walked out of the salon she’d feel confident, but the whole transformation can be extremely overwhelming for some.”

Psychodynamic therapist and Counselling Directory member Olena Chechel argues that the hair salon is the perfect place for the inner critic to rear its head because it’s “the archetype of beauty and aesthetic”.

She adds: “We come to the salon to ‘fix’ something about our appearance. We hope that when we go to this place, it will make us look ‘better’, amend something that is out of place or have a long overdue pamper session. However, the mirror reflects back our insecurities. No one looks their best with a cape, foils in hair, and florescent lighting, but that doesn’t change that many of us do not like being confronted with an image that is less than perfect.”

Of course, the salon isn’t the only place where we can be mean to ourselves, but this, combined with the sheer amount of hours you’re liable to spend sitting in that chair in front of the mirror can open our minds up to some pretty rough self-criticism.

Chechel says: “This forced sitting strips away all of our defences and we are left in a vulnerable and exposed state where our inner critic starts to tell us all of the things that are so terribly ‘wrong’.”

Marsh also points out that, in addition to the fact that it’s not easy to look your best in the middle of a cut or colour, hair itself has a lot of emotional significance for people.

He says: “Our hair has been entwined through time in cultural values, mythology, standards of beauty and even fertility, so it is no wonder that we have such a strong bond with our hair and what it represents for us. If you think about the powerful emotions from the transformation that a break-up haircut can bring you, or the importance of expressing your modesty and faith when covering your hair, then you can begin to understand the anxiety that a visit to the hairdresser can bring.

“I’ve also often seen that the act of being touched by another person can open up a whole range of emotions that is different from when a family or close friend might touch you. It somehow allows a client to drop their guard, discuss their insecurities in what is a safe and non-judgmental space.”

“Anxiety-free hairdressing” is a core part of Peckham salon DKUK’s ethos. In fact, there are no mirrors in front of any of the chairs there, and customers only look at their reflections when they’re explaining the cut they want at the start and evaluating the results at the end. Instead of sitting in front of their reflections for hours on end, customers look at art. 

Director and founder Daniel Kelly tells Stylist people’s demeanours “tend to be a lot more relaxed” when they’re in a salon with no mirrors, adding: “Hairdressers need bright lights to do their work, and bright lights cast shadows over people’s faces. Any photographer would tell you to never take photographs of people with shadows all over their faces because it’s unflattering. So I would argue that having mirrors in a salon actually goes against its primary job, which is to make clients look and feel good.

“After two decades of hairdressing, I’ve realised it’s more about how you make the client feel, rather than how you make the client look. Having mirrors in [a salon] always sends me into a bit of an existential crisis, personally. I feel a bit depressed and a bit ugly. You’re sat around people who always look their best with bright lights shining across your face and wet hair plastered to your head.”

Kelly also finds it difficult to relax and be present in the chair with mirrors all around the place, because it makes them so conscious of everything that’s going on in the salon behind them.

“Our clients say that they are much more aware of the sense of touch,” Kelly adds, “and it creates a more relaxed experience because of this. They’re just feeling what’s happening, and they can spend some time with it all, letting their minds wander a bit.”

Kelly trained as a hairdresser and an artist, and in the past they used to cut people’s hair while surrounded by art. And that was where the idea for DKUK started.

“In the beginning, it was very much an art project where you could get a haircut, and it was about facilitating more people to look at good, interesting art in an environment that they might find relaxing. But as time went on, it became apparent that this mirrorless hairdressing concept fulfils many different people’s needs. People with anxiety, with neuro-divergencies, people who are transitioning, who are just uncomfortable sitting in front of a mirror – there are a lot of different communities out there that this appeals to.”

But the fact remains that most people would never speak to a loved one, or even their worst enemy, in the way they’re liable to speak to themselves in or out of a salon chair. Chechel says this is simply because “we are aware of the consequences”.

“We could hurt them,” she adds. “And they may want to stop being our friends. We see our friends through the eyes of love and compassion, rather than criticism. The truth is, many of us are not very good friends to ourselves. The critical voice goes unnoticed inside the mind, whereas actually speaking it out to someone makes it very real. These are very painful feelings and beliefs and they’re sometimes hidden under the guise of small comments that seem harmless.”

So how can we learn to speak a bit more nicely to ourselves at the salon and beyond? After all, we’re not likely to see the majority of hairdressers go mirror-free any time soon.

Chechel tells us it involves acknowledging this inner critic, naming it and interacting with it.

She explains: “When you notice yourself being critical, you can say: ‘Hi, I see you. I hear you loud and clear, but this is not really helpful to me right now. It’s not making me feel so good.’ This is where compassion comes in.”

But being compassionate takes practice, with Chechel describing it as being like flexing a muscle.

“A good way to think of how to speak to yourself compassionately is to think about what you would say to a good friend or a child if they were speaking to themselves critically,” she goes on. “Start to notice that it feels like when the inner critic goes on a monologue in comparison to what it feels like when you notice it, and instead bring in your own compassionate voice.

“It’s important to remember that as humans, we are all flawed. Perfection is for the gods. When you’re in a salon and you feel yourself start to barrage yourself with criticism, you can remind yourself that no one looks fabulous in a salon chair until after they’re done with their appointment. This is a universal experience.”

Image: Getty