Hair cuts from the old age

If you walk into Leonard's the hairdressers, there are a number of things that would strike you. The young, faded picture of a gorgeous Matt Le Blanc in the window, the interesting colour of sofa, the striking haircuts hung upon the wall that would sooner have you run out of the shop to take your service to a horrendously priced Toni & Guy, the oriental old-style fan, the spiral staircase and wicker woven laundry basket under the stairs.

This isn't your typical hairdressers.

Sitting in a part of town called the arcade, it fits quite suitably. Very 80's. It's unusual though, for all it's character. Whilst it offers modern day prices on trims, up to date magazines listing all the latest technology for Christmas and new, professional men's electrical hair trimmers, it is still quite a quirky and retro place. 

I sat, temporarily fixed on leaving my iPod untouched and stalling my desire for Craig David, to listen to the ceiling radio. The soft hum and the delicate hues of the browns and mixed creams of the decor for just a moment, transported me back to an old-fashioned coiffeur. 

As I've advanced in my teenage years I've developed an innate love for the 1920s period onwards, partly fuelled by obsessively watching and re-watching Downton Abbey. Since then, I've been desperate to live a simple life; no TV, no iPod just me walking out with a hamper basket full of sandwiches, apples and juice and sitting at the base of a big tree trunk and reading until the sun falls. 

Easier imagined than done. 

I only just realised in March, about half way through year 13, that - in fact - my dreams were unattainable. I remember that realisation so clearly. I was in the shower. I'd always said to myself that once I got out of Dubai and through my teenage years and degree, I could then buy a house near the countryside and complete my olden day ideal. And then, one sleep disillusioned morning in the shower before Sixth Form I thought; 

Hang on. Wait, you know you're never actually going to get to travel back in time. The 1920s will never come again! You can't, in the 21st century, live without Internet. It's a physical impracticality. A near-on social suicide. 

I remember that morning in tutor, telling one of my best friends; Danielle, my sudden, disturbing and heart-breaking epiphany. From that day onwards, I became incredibly conscious of how I could still live my dream and avoid alienating everyone around me. 

And so, sat in that old fashioned hairdresser, I could, if only for 2 or 3 minutes, allow myself to drift forward into the past. To a setting I could seldom every dream of being in again.