A journal kept by the salon, written between appointments, posted between seasons. Notes on hairdressing, the small rituals of upkeep, the people of Glasgow who pass through No. 386, and the products we keep on the back shelf.
A longer piece, written in the quiet hour after closing.
The work is in the grow-out. We talk about painting for the year ahead, not for the morning after, and the small choices at the bowl that decide how a colour ages on you.
Twenty-eight years of small observations sorted by category, written by hand.
Fifty years of highlighting, in one drawer. The plastic cap at the back, foils folded in their squares, the soft-bristle brush on top. A colourist walks the timeline.
What changes when the room is yours alone. Not a list of perks, but a frank account of how single-occupancy changes the quality of a colour decision.
"Change your hair, change your life."
Audrey in Rome, Seberg in Paris, Twiggy at Leonard's salon, Mia at her own bathroom sink. The cut has a longer story than the name.
A century of the same clean line, from Antoine de Paris in 1909 through Louise Brooks to Vidal Sassoon's 1964 revival, told from the chair.
The colour wheel is the first thing the trade teaches and the last thing a colourist relies on. A piece on what it shows, and what it leaves out.
"Every client has a unique head of hair when it comes to history, condition, shape. So our approach to each client is unique."
A geography of the south side written from a chair on Paisley Road West. The neighbourhoods that walk in from Govan, Cardonald, Ibrox and Drumoyne, and the sense of occasion they bring with them.
The diagnosis at the chair is physical, not theoretical. What touch, elasticity and weight tell us about whether colour-treated hair needs protein, moisture, or both.
Glasgow's mains supply is one of the softest in the country, a quiet gift for colour. The dullness clients describe at week ten comes from elsewhere, and it can be undone.
A short note from the salon, one essay, one before-and-after, the diary of dates we have left. Never more than that.