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Cuts, Combs, and Confessions

by Derek C. Baily

305 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-2117; ISBN 1-4120-1740-8; US$25.50, C$29.00, EUR21.00, £15.00

The humorous story of a life filled with unique and incredible experiences as a British First Class hairstylist and "confidant". His early days, training and styling hair around the world on cruise ships.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts or Table of Contents      catalogue info

About the Book This is the hilarious and sometimes poignant account of the life, training, and travels 'round the world on luxury liners of a British Hairstylist in Post-WWII England. An entertaining and enlightening saga.

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About the Author Derek resides in the ancient seaside city of St. Augustine, Florida with his loving wife, Shirley, where they have established an exclusive styling salon, "Derek's of London." In his career as a registered "master craftsmen stylist" in England, Derek has participated in many high fashion competitions and magazines. As a state registered master cosmetologist in the U.S., Derek was president of the St. Augustine Technical Center Cosmetology Advisory Board for two years and named by "Modern Salon" magazine as one of the country's top stylists (August, 1987.) Derek is internationally renowned and when travelling around the world he has met many famous (and infamous) fascinating people who have added a greater dimension to his life. A few years ago, Derek became a naturalized United States citizen and is very proud to be an American. This is his first book.

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Excerpt from Cuts, Combs and Confessions

Finally, the day arrived when I was to be allowed to cut "model's" hair. Most of the "models" were retired seniors who got the service very cheap, and my client was a large, Far Eastern lady who spoke very limited English. Summoning all my nerve, I began. As I was cutting the hair round her neck, my shears suddenly went through what I thought was the cape, but as I pulled the towel off her neck, a huge pinkish wart-like appendage came out with it, hit the floor and bounced. I quickly kicked it under the chair and looked to see amongst the rolls of fat on her neck, where the wound was, but all I could find was a small white spot and no blood at all. Very relieved, I finished her haircut, gave her over to Mr. Cook for his approval, dashed to the staff room, and shakingly poured myself a cup of strong tea. My relief was short-lived. Abel suddenly appeared with a dustpan in the center of which stood the offending severed wart along with some hair clippings. He was examining it closely with a sinister look on his face. "I saw what you did," he said accusingly. "You cut that old girl's wart off! You'd better tell Mr. Cook. If you don't, I will," he threatened.

"Please, Abel, don't tell him!" I begged, "I'll be sacked!"

"That old girl will probably bleed to death tonight," he continued. "My Dad is in the medical field (He actually was a salesman of prophylactics) and you know, as the saying goes, ŒCut a wart, farm is bought.' Those hanging warts start to bleed and there's no stopping them."

"Oh, God!" I cried. I was terrified to go to the bosses, yet I didn't want to be a murderer! "Look," Abel carefully proffered his carrot, "give me all your tips for the week and I won't say anything and I'll even throw this thing away for you."

So, I gave him my hard-won two pounds and went home to a sleepless night during which every car that went up the road I swore was the police coming for me. I was sure I'd killed her. Next morning, I got to the shop expecting to see police cars outside, but nothing. Every time the phone rang or someone came in, I ran to the "gents" to hide.

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Catalogue Information

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