My Father and Grandparents were in the hairdressing business and Mother married into it, so to speak, but I'm the family drop out.
I have the most awful hair - Dad used to joke that he'd seen better hair on a side of bacon - poker straight, fine but thick and a s*d to cut properly. Ma was the only person who could ever cut it successfully. She had to give up doing mine some time before she died and I have spent subsequent years touring the local hairdressers wherever I've lived getting worse and worse hair cuts.
I don't know about where you all are but over here hairdressers, in the main, only know how to cut wet hair and club cut it (ie blunt cut it) neither of which my hair will co-operate with.
The other day I was at my wits end and on impulse walked into the first hairdresser's I passed in Glossop. Yes, they cut hair dry, no problem, come tomorrow at 2pm.
The result was the best hair cut I've had since Mother had to give up! I no longer look as though a mad axe-murderer has set about my head with a knife and fork and - the ultimate test - after getting soaked to the skin twice today, my hair cut still looks good. And it only cost £10 (about US$15) The last time I had it cut it cost me £35!!!!
Now, for the weird bit. The hairdresser who owns the business is called Ursula Smith. My mother was not only a hairdresser, her christian name was Ursula and her maiden name was.....Smith!!! Oo-er!!!
I'm inclined to think her ghost was getting tired of seeing me walking round looking like hell on wheels and decided to intervene.