hairdresser

I am in London on one of my lightening 24 hour visits. This means at total of five hours journey by TGV and Eurostar, followed by a mad dash around town trying to fulfill various work engagements and a long ‘to do’ list, culminating in a mad sweep of Marks & Spencer foodhall. But at least I get to wear glamorous shoes.

This morning I head to the John Frieda salon in Mayfair to have honey-coloured highlights put into my hair. This is a procedure that I dare not risk in my French village, where one of my English friends went for a hair cut and came away with a perm.

The salon is packed with beauty editors (including a very glamorous friend that I haven’t seen for a while) and Labour politicians, including Tessa Jowell hair half done, buttering up political journalist Polly Toynbee at the backwash.

My colourist Gary is looking particularly sharp today - and later I find out why. As my hair is being cut, I notice a slight figure slip into the chair opposite, accompanied by a brassy blonde minder. Usually, I am rubbish at spotting slebs but, alerted by her Edie Sedgewick get-up - grey chiffon tunic top with sequins and black leggings - I realise that it is Sienna Miller. She is showing Gary a magazine picture, but unfortunately I cannot see what it is.

As I am leaving I spot him in a side room mixing up Sienna’s colour and casually ask what she is having done. Unfortunately (for me), he is far too discreet to say.