A Nation of Hairdressers

In which The Author gives his friend some careers advice

When Rhian and I were in Aberdare Park to see the cyclists depart on the Tour of Britain, we bumped into our friend Jodie B. We've known her since she was a barbint in the Conway, so we were surprised to see her lurking outside the little cafe by the lake. It turned out that Jodie was doing a couple of shifts there during the college vacation. Naturally, we asked her what she was studying.

Neither of us were particularly surprised when she replied, 'Hair and Beauty.'

Considering that Aberdare College has a pretty limited range of vocational courses anyway – and pitifully few academic courses – there's not a great deal if you want to proceed into further education. To make matters worse, there's virtually bugger all for anyone looking to return to college later in life.

I found this out for myself when I visited their open day just after the A level results came out. Apart from the ever-present Access to Humanities course (see Results Day), they weren't able to offer me anything interesting. They gave me a couple of brochures, but they just confirmed my suspicions that in thirty years' time, Wales is going to be a nation of builders, motor mechanics, care workers and hairdressers. I don't know what they'll be offering in the shiny new premises near Aberdare Station when it opens next year, but I think I can guess. Never mind all the guff you read about the 'knowledge economy' – in Wales, the future is going to be the precarious contracts economy for most people, and self-employment for the lucky few. It's what people like me are already calling 'the gig economy'. Naturally, some Tory MPs are seeing this as a positive step. Well, of course they would, wouldn't they? They can return to being the Landed Gentry, and the rest of us can tug our forelocks when we pass them on the way to our next day's casual work.

Anyway, this came back to mind when Clare and I were in Merthyr a fortnight ago. A few days before, she'd mentioned that she was thinking of going to college next autumn. I asked her what she fancied studying, and guess what she told me …

We were passing Thereisnospoon (and that's another story entirely) when I spotted a big banner advertising Merthyr College's renowned Performing Arts courses. As I've mentioned before, Clare loves singing (which is how we met, of course), she did some acting when she was in school, and she's written a few songs. This is partly the reason why I'm drawing her – and Chazza, to a lesser extent – into the live music scene in Aberdare. It'll be a chance for them to meet guys and gals who've been writing and playing for years. Considering that I can play about three and a half chords on the guitar and even fewer on the piano, I've been on the periphery of the Aberdare scene for most of my adult life. (I know more musicians than the average drummer.)

I pointed out the banner and said, 'That's what you want to be studying.'

Her eyes lit up straight away, so I suggested we stroll over to the campus and pick up a brochure. But she was focused on food, so I shelved the idea while we failed to get fish and chips on Fish Friday. (I know – you couldn't make it up, could you?)

On Monday we met for lunch and I mentioned Merthyr College again. I looked up their number and gave them a quick call. The lady I spoke to was very helpful and enthusiastic, and told that they were having an open evening that very same day.

'Why not come over and talk to the tutors?' she suggested.

I explained that Clare lives in Hirwaun, and I'm just outside Aberdare. After 6.30 p.m., you can forget any prospect of getting home unless you travel via Abercynon (by train) or Pontypridd (by bus). The lady from the college understood where I was coming from – literally and metaphorically – and I said we'd come over for an open day instead. In the meantime, I asked her to send Clare a brochure and we could read a bit more about it.

The job's a good 'un. Clare had the prospectus on Tuesday morning. We're going to sit down with it and see what catches her eye. If she goes down that route, she'll find it far more challenging and fulfilling than making coffee and sweeping up clippings for a year or so in the guise of a 'modern apprenticeship'.

After all, the very last thing Aberdare needs is another bloody hairdresser. I took the camera for a stroll this morning, to check the situation out on the ground. I already knew that there are three salons in Trecynon alone: one on the square, one opposite the top of the park, and one behind the Mount Pleasant (although one is closed for holidays at the moment, and I don't know the situation with the one on the square).

I proceeded in an orderly manner in a southerly direction, as the police officer said to the actress. There are two more in the little row of shops on the Gadlys – literally a few doors apart, as you can can see from the photos – a third in the old Park Bakery, and a fourth just below the Mackworth.

We haven't reached the town centre yet. I started off in Canon Street. There was, until fairly recently, a salon at the end of High Street, but that's gone. Still, there are plenty of others, so I shouldn't think it was a vital cog in the Valleys economic powerhouse. Incidentally, the first one, Walters, is in the upstairs premises which was formerly Lloyd's, back in the day, and where we always used to go for haircuts.

This second photo is interesting, showing two salons side by side. However, you only get the whole picture when I widen the angle:

Yes, you are reading this properly. We have an entire Makeover Mews coming together – a beauty salon and tanning parlour, two hair salons and a new nail bar, all side by side.

I got to the Palladium block of flats where the Palladium used to be, and remembered that there's a place in Dean Street as well. One small detour sorted that one out.

Back in Canon Street, I came across another two barbers' shops in fairly short order. The first has been open for literally less than a month. Between them there's another nail bar. (I decided not to include nail bars, beauty salons and tanning parlours in the photographic survey, because I've only got a 4 Gb memory card.)

My next port of call was Whitcombe Street. There was a barber's shop here in 1975, according to the Goad's map of the town which I've been working on for some time. Unfortunately, it cuts off slightly short, so it wouldn't have included any of these, even if they'd been in existence at the time. Once again, we have two for the price of one: next to Route 66 is the long-established Lynx. (Lyn, the owner, worked with Lloyd before he went out on his own a number of years ago.)

I doubled back into Commercial Street, where there's just one salon, amazingly.

An inspired hunch took me along Duke Street, into Market Street and through the market itself. There, at the far end, my vague memory of the new part paid off.

There's another 'two for one' offer on the corner of Merchant Street, as well, and then I made my way back into Duke Street.

I looped around into Cardiff Street, where my friend Shaun M. has a tattoo studio next to yet another barber's shop.

I knew there was nothing in Cardiff Street itself, but an inspired guess led me into the little courtyard of the former National School. I found a salon here, but there was no sign of life. Maybe hairdressers go on holiday mob-handed at this time of year. Who knows?

At the end of Bute Street, there's this real oddity which has been there since Goddess was a little girl. You get the impression that only ladies' stylists have trendy and/or punning names, don't you?

Back on Victoria Square, I knew I was in the right place at the right time. The first salon literally opened this morning. On the other side of the Lighthouse, Emma's been there for some years. Needless to say, there's a nail bar next to Emma's place. Right at the end of the row, once you've been transformed into the film star/ pop singer/ supermodel/ whatever of your choice, Victoria Studios can photograph the evidence for you before you go for a drink to celebrate.

I was about to call it a day when I remembered that there's a salon on Monk Street. It didn't take me long to walk up there and back into town.

I was heading for the library when I passed this place next to Thereisnospoon. I crossed the road to photograph it, and then remembered that there's yet another one behind the solicitors' offices, on the approach to St Elvan's Church.

I think that's a pretty comprehensive survey of the Aberdare scene at the time of writing. Of course, it's quite possible that I missed one, tucked away in a first floor premises. If you'd like some free advertising courtesy of The Author, please feel free to get in touch.

I think it's fair to say that every Cynon Valley community, except Penderyn and Rhigos, has a hair salon of some size. This doesn't take into account the plethora of mobile stylists, like my friends Ian L. and Jenny J. (No, not that Jenny, don't worry!) Most of their business comes from working people who would be hard pushed to fit a salon visit around their busy schedules. They also serve the growing population of elderly people, whether in their own homes, or by regular visits to residential homes.

Now, you'd think that with this wealth of cutting-edge skill (sorry about that), Aberdare people would be striding around like the proudest peacocks, showing off their individual 'dos in an attempt to outsmart (sorry again) their rivals in the sexual athletics. Not a chance! The post-Fordist bubble I described in And Now For Something Completely Identical burst a long time ago. It takes a brave person to buck the fashion trends.

Clare wore a dog collar on Monday (as had I, quite by chance) and said that she got several strange looks as she came into the library. Then we went for lunch, and she became aware that people were staring at us. We were both dressed in black sporting unusual accessories. I took an elsie (a photo taken on a mobile phone which contains another person) and posted her picture on Facebook, with the words 'We're sure the guys on the next table think we're on our way to a fetish night'.

Meanwhile, we were surrounded by young lads with One Direction haircuts, or slightly older lads with great big bushy beards, and women of all ages who think it's cool to dye their hair white. We were definitely something completely different.

I'm sure Clare would be a sad loss to the world of hairdressing, but I'd much rather encourage her to do something she's guaranteed to enjoy. After all, enough kids drop out of further education as things stand. They find out the course isn't what it's cracked up to be, and decide to do something else. It's a waste of everyone's time, and it doesn't do any great things for the country's prosperity. Aberdare really doesn't need another hairdresser, but we can never have too many creative young people reaching their full potential, can we?