Salon



Our hairdressing salon continues to do a roaring (ish) trade in the humble suburbs of Ho Chi Minh City.
The mornings are quiet, but it picks up by late afternoon, and by early evening it is filled, mostly with girls who work in the 'entertainment industry' getting themselves dolled up for the night. It is extraordinary to see what these girls can do while having their hair done. They conduct improbably loud telephone conversations, smoke and eat noodles, all while getting their hair straightened and a pedicure into the bargain.


The maestro of the salon is Kien, my nephew. He is the man to contact if you want the latest look.



Duy is a country cousin from Bentre. I remember Duy when he was a funny little boy working his family farm in nowheresville, Mekong Delta. Now he is the glamorous sidekick at a city salon - his dream position. Duy left for a while, but is back now - he thought the world of clothing manufacture might be more rewarding. Turns out it wasn't. And blood is thicker than water.

1 comments:

1st persona said...

OMG, i remember Duy when he was just a little kid... so different now!

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