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I woke up in a hot sweat this morning, half because I insist on putting the heating on in December despite the temperature not dropping below 17 degrees but mainly because this is the week where everything is supposed to be sorted and just about nothing is. For all my talk of the true spirit of Christmas, the offspring are expecting presents:
#1 FC Barcelona merchandise and history books (thank god part 2 off sets part 1)
#2 Lego friends (can anyone explain why Lego friends characters are smaller in size than Lego characters? The feminist inside is rising up…)
#3 Anything that resembles a monster truck.
I have a friend who brought all her Christmas presents in September. When she told me, I immediately recommended therapy. Now I want to be her. Not one Internet-ordered gift has actually arrived yet, despite the handsome postal charges to Ibiza. Luckily me and OH don’t exchange Christmas presents. That part of us just didn’t work out. Ten years ago I had to gently explain that small electricals, no matter how useful, were not an expression of love. So now I tell him each year that the gift he has given me, in moving us to Ibiza, is enough to last for eternity. Almost, yellow diamonds excepted.
The hot sweaty panic was also about appointments. It’s Christmas Day on Friday. That means that this week is primarily a week of beauty appointments. A hair cut, some extra colour, waxing those lesser seen places, nails, even make-up before the more special parties. We all feel the need to preen ourselves before this period. I have no idea why. Maybe we feel better protected in the midst of enormous family rows with a fresh head of highlights, or cornrows if we’re feeling particularly mid-life-crisis-y. Before Ibiza I used to block out entire days to get myself into the centre of London, be kept waiting with a herbal tea (a vino would have helped), get my hair washed by someone who seemed too young to be allowed to legally work, sit in the queue until my stylist (I could afford Senior, never made it to Director) was available and then would spend the next hour telling deliberate untruths about how much I liked my new haircut. £150 for hair + £50 for lunch, parking, cab from parking space to salon, Starbucks and I was done.
Here in Ibiza I have what is essentially a reverse hairdresser relationship. I cannot wait to take my seat and hear what is going on with him and he cannot wait to tell me. There is always a saga, Simon has worked in many hairdressing salons but it never works out and he takes his faithful clients with him. We don’t care. He is as cute as pie, an outrageous flirt, an amazing hairdresser and charges 20€. His cheeky charm and talent is so unrelenting that the hairdresser that got him the sack at his last place now comes to have her hair cut in secret at his place. My hair is as perfect as I have always dreamed it could be – expertly coiffed to look completely natural. He even lets me bring my own little bottles of REN shampoo, because I am so neurotic about salon chemicals seeping into my scalp, except of course the grey-covering type. Last summer he took a job on a boat, doing a pretty woman’s hair. Imagine his shock when Simon Cowell walked onto the deck mid-blow-dry. If he’s good enough for his missus, he’s good enough for me.
For those who want to get even closer to Ibiza royalty, there is the amazing Louise Maxwell. She does all the hot photo shoots for magazines and sexy brands but her and her team also do weddings and private work too. If you can get an appointment with her you’re lucky and you’ll be on a high for the whole of Christmas, no matter what nonsense it throws at you. Of course, in our epi-centre of Santa Gertrudis is ‘Ibiza Styling.’ There is Agnes at the helm, who charges island prices and she is also conveniently located beside the previously written about Plaisir cafe. Sandwiching a beauty appointment between delicious pastries and pick me up coffee, along with a guaranteed bump into at least eight people you know, seems like a perfect way to spend an afternoon.
It’s evening now and as a I nurse a glass of Can Rich rosé (who said it was a summer drink), my inner calm has returned, as Simon has just confirmed my trim and grey at one temple strategic colour touch up, for Christmas Eve. Just five minutes ago there was a knock on the door and my own little Elf, dressed up in a Correos* uniform came walking up the drive holding a wobbly pile of my ten lost packages. ¡Feliz navidad!*
Simon Kearns: firstname.lastname@example.org I’ll lend you my little secret. There for weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, openings and closings and a good old gossip. He’ll come to you or you can go to his place.
http://www.louisemaxwell.com Louise and her team are mobile and will come to you!
Ibiza Styling in Santa Gertrudis: 971 19 78 59 Calle Venda Can Llatzer 19, 07814 Santa Gertrudis de Fruitera This is the locals favourite and Agnes gets really booked up, so if you’re here on holiday make sure you book well in advance
www.plaisir.es Plaisir Santa Gertrudis Carrer Venda de Fruitera, 07814, just on the outside of the town
http://www.bodegascanrich.com/eng_principal.htm Delicious, eco enough wines, made from grapes right here in Ibiza
*The Spanish National Postal Service