My Shampoo's a Sham

This morning, I awoke to mindless radio, and embarked on the daily grooming routine that many of us across the world share. Although, this morning was different, as I engaged in an epic battle with my shampoo bottle. It was coming to that point in my bottle's life cycle where that cleansing goodness was clinging for its life to the bottom of the bottle & refusing to meet its lathering fate in my hair. This particular morning, I was in the clear, however, I wanted to set myself up for smooth sailing for days to come, and I struggled to keep this bottle balanced upside-down so that gravity could do its trick while I was busy at work. This whole undertaking, as trivial as it seems, really got me thinking about the whole shampoo business.

Lets get the boring numbers paragraph out of the way. The general consensus is that you use a quarter-sized drop (apologies for non-Americans-think 20p). The average shampoo bottle looks to be 300ml, and it lasts around 1.5 months (un-scientific). Therefore, you're using roughly 6.7ml per wash. If that bottle costs $5, that's 11 cents per wash. From being a cheapo, and tipping my bottle over, I know I can get 5 more days out of the bottle, which means there's on average 33.3ml that is very stubborn in your shampoo bottle, or 55 cents worth. Many shampoo manufacturers (think Unilever, Procter & Gamble) still shy away from those bottles that sit upside-down, and I'm guessing this is for economic reasons. If the average consumer has a 50 year window of purchasing their own shampoo, they would buy roughly 400 bottles of shampoo ($2K worth). However, if that bottle was upside down, they'd buy 365 bottles ($1825), a savings of $175, or 175 items from your local fast food joint's dollar menu. Solution: these companies could charge $5.48 on average for the upside-down bottles, and all would be happy with less waste in the world. Oddly enough, those upside-down bottles do appear to be more expensive.

As an interesting aside, in researching the finer points of this post, I read in NPR that Americans apparently love shampoo--washing our hair an average of 4.59 times per week (twice as much as Italians and Spaniards). The article goes deeper by showing the tides supposedly all changed in May or 1908 when the NYT advised women they could deviate from the standard once per month wash, and do it every 2 weeks. Later, TV commercials featured models like Farrah Fawcett, and washing your hair was cool. According to dermatologists, 2-3 times per week should do the trick, as much more than this will remove too much sebum oil, which makes the sebaceous glands produce even more of that stuff, whatever it does. This ads an interesting twist in the life cycle of the shampoo bottle,. I may find myself needing to flip it upside-down less often, buy less, and only deal with the consequence of more flies loving my head on the way to work. I guess less really is more.

The Hair Therapist

There are necessities in life, and getting your hair cut is one of them, for most. In an earlier post, I mentioned the barriers involved when speaking with dental hygienists. With hair stylists, the only barriers are conversation-skill-oriented (along with the occasional hair dryer). This brings me to my main point, stylists should be great conversationalists or mimes, but nothing in-between.

I don't claim to have the greatest hair cut, nor do I claim to be the best conversationalist. However, last time I checked, these weren't required credentials for a valid opinion. I digress. Back to the point, a great hair cutter doesn't just cut hair, they also are your modern-day confessional. When you're in such tight quarters, hair is flying, and all you can do is look in the mirror. The hair therapist is a natural outlet. Not only do I often tell my now-regular stylist, Kat, the inns-and-outs of my life, I also overhear those around me doing the same. A great stylist sparks this and carries it, and we never stop to ask why we tell them these intimate details.

The mime stylist is okay as well. This could be an old fashioned barber who just gets the job done. Wham-bam, thank you mam (or sir). I have no complaints about this approach, as long as the final product is presentable.

Now, lets talk about the stylist that falls in-between the 2 above. We can call them Awkward Annies. They're easy to spot. Conversations usually start with the weather, move on to the weekend plans, and then tail off in awkward silence. The silence can persist for awhile, and if they're good at their particular craft, they'll probably ask a few more yes-no questions right when the blow dryer comes out. If you were in a bar, this is the person that you'd escape from with a bathroom break. However, half done hair cuts just aren't in fashion any more. Therefore, the plan B for this one is to order a few more drinks (probably water or tea at the salon, unfortunately), as the conversation will surely not be memorable, and hope that you stumble upon someone better next time...