OH. MY. CURLERS.
Now THAT is what I call a slam-bang quarter-season finale! I thought they’d nailed it in season sixty-seven when Marlene returned from her quest to save the quokka population from an evil oil baron who wanted to build a supermarket over their only remaining sacred burial ground, but THIS was even better!
Got to admit, I didn’t see Velma coming out with that business plan of hers. We’ve known for years that Velma is totally obsessed with her looks, ever since she had that psychotic breakdown where she tried to destroy ever mirror in the entire town because she thought that her reflections were talking trash behind her back. Now she’s visited a hair salon in the middle of Melbourne and seen how much more professional they are than in Realsville, she’s on a one-woman-crusade to establish a fine hair salon of a Melbourne standard, right there in town.
Of course, Judith runs the only salon in town, and she only knows how to do about six types of hair, four of which went out of style in the sixties. Still, Judith is approaching her 96th birthday, so everyone has just been humouring her and traveling elsewhere for their real hair salon needs. This new plan of Velma’s is a direct challenge to Judith’s monopoly, so the two are now at loggerheads, and old grudges are coming out of the woodwork. Judith is now trapped in an immersive flashback to 1962, when she was watching the South Melbourne hairdressing guild setting up and putting her family’s artisan home hair salon out of business, even though it was actually down to her father’s alcoholism and her mother’s obsession with experimental mousse.
So THAT’S all happening. Now there are two mobs converging in the streets, with torches and everything. All over one little hair salon. Weird, that…
I might only have three hairs left, but I feel like I’ve made peace with it. That’s because my hair USED to be amazing. See, I had my prime during the 80s, which means it was feathered locks all around. I was basically Rod Stewart, but better. Rod Stewart was jealous of me, essentially. I was platinum blond, and my feathered do waved around in the wind like the flag of the greatest and most fabulous nation on Earth. And when you’re turning heads due to your hair, in the 80s, you know you’ve got something truly special growing out of your scalp.
So how, you might ask, have I made peace with my lack of hair at the current time? That’s simple. I achieved this inner peace through mentoring hairdressers. Melbourne has enough hair dressers who professionally trained, by my hair was SO good, SO natural, and SO effortless, that people started to ask me for tips. Of course, beyond the tip of ‘be born as me, have my hair’, there wasn’t much I could tell people at first. Then I realised that I could be an inspiration for all hairdressers everywhere, purely for my amazing hair and the boons that could be gained from studying it. I used to go to hair salons and just…sit. People would note the layers, marvel at how it kept its perfect shape even in windy or rainy weather, and a few times people even attempted to replicate it while I was there. No one ever quite reached my level of magnificence, but I think I really helped elevate the skills of Melbourne’s hairdressers. Time was that you could walk into any hairdresser in the Melbourne CBD and they’d know my name. It’s all gone now, but…in a strange way, I feel like that’s okay. I had such blazing glory days that it was enough for a lifetime, probably two lifetimes. And to think there are sad, sad fools walking around with unmanageable hair. I’d almost rather be bald; it’s all or nothing!