My hair-raising experience in Bintas Hair Salon
As all women know, our hair is our temple, and it is of the utmost importance to find a good environment for us to worship it regularly. This is why upon arriving Berlin I took a few months to research where the decent Afro hair salons were in the city. After heavy research which included surfing the net, reading various Berlin blogs and stopping the random ‘African-looking’ person on the street, I decided to go to Bintas hair salon to loosen my extensions.
I had booked a 10am appointment for that morning, so was slightly peeved when I arrived at 9.55 and the salon was still closed. Fast forward about 15 minutes when I had all but lost the feeling in my toes, and a man finally came to open up the salon. My mood was further soured when it seemed like he had no recollection of me making an appointment. So gathering the patience from the gods, I calmly told him to look for his appointment book and lo and behold, in some illegible scribble, there my written appointment lay.
I was then told that ‘someone’ would come to the salon to do my hair ‘soon’. By this point, I wanted to commit bloody murder but I forced myself to find some delights in the many objects that were for sale around me. There were various slightly gawdy (translation-ghetto) accessories–
There were also beauty products on offer–
When I peered into the back of the hair salon, I saw African food products on sale. At this point, I expected to look left and see a minister performing a wedding ceremony and to watch a minister carrying out a frenzied baptism on my right.
I then had to pysically shake myself to remember that I was supposed to be in a hair salon and asked for the salon’s price list. I was then told that the price of loosening extensions ‘depends’. Depends on what, I asked, trying desperately not to bark the question. The man then gave me some cock n bull story and all the while I gazed at the clock. Fast forward about 45 minutes and a lady came to loosen my extensions. In the end I ended up paying 15 euros, which I thought was pretty decent.
As the lady loosened my extensions, Madame Binta herself sailed into the salon, bestowing her (slightly irate) customers with warm greetings et al, and this would have moved me, had I not had to deal with all that I had in her salon that morning. In fact, I wanted to list all my complaints to her, but I thought better of it. At that point, I just wanted to get my hair done and GO.
After my appointment I made the mistake of buying some of Binta’s hair products-
Why did I make a mistake? Because on returning home to use the Carrot Oil I had purchased for a hefty 6.50 euros, I saw that not only did it not have a seal but half of the carrot oil seemed to have been used by someone else. Shaking with rage, I then tried to see what the expiry date was, and saw that there was none but instead the trademark date was listed all the way back to 2004!! At this point, I hissed and threw the offensive carrot oil into the dustbin, where Bintas salon should really be situated.