I usually get my hair cut once a year, not just because of the high cost, but because the experience is almost unbearable. Describing what you want to a hairdresser feels like speaking a secret language. Phrases like "semi-undercut with a French shag and a double-tuck" are confusing. Pointing at a picture of Zendaya, hoping for a magical transformation, is equally awkward. Then, there's the discomfort of staring at your reflection for an hour under harsh lighting, draped in the unflattering black hairdresser’s cape. Drinking the complimentary coffee becomes a challenge as you must take tiny sips to avoid moving your head while someone wields scissors near your face. Worst of all is the small talk. The obligatory, trivial conversation starts the moment you sit down and doesn’t stop until you leave. Questions like “Going anywhere nice on holiday?” feel irrelevant during a cost-of-living crisis. How do you fill the rest of the time with a near-stranger while feeling so uncomfortable? In one Helsinki salon, the solution is silence. Finnish hairdresser Kati Hakomeri offers a “silent service” at her salon, Parturi Kati, at no extra charge. Customers can opt for a haircut without talking, enjoying quiet after the initial consultation. Hakomeri, an introvert herself, understands the discomfort small talk can cause. “I’m an introvert myself and I understand how uncomfortable it can be for a client to have to make small talk,” she explained. Finally, a hairdresser who gets it. Not everyone wants to chat constantly. People often mistake me for an extrovert because I love social activities like dancing and karaoke, usually with friends. But small talk with strangers, like in a cab or at a networking event, exhausts me. It feels like filling silence for the sake of it, without genuine interest from either party. We often fear silence, thinking it awkward, when it can actually be liberating. Sanctioned quiet is a luxury, as Hakomeri notes: “If you have a bunch of screaming kids at home, you can sit here for a while and rest your ears.” I first appreciated the beauty of quiet during a silent retreat. The freedom from having to make conversation was striking. The pressure to fill every moment with words disappeared, leaving space for thoughts to wander freely. My mind could finally breathe. A hair salon isn’t a retreat, but it can be a brief sanctuary amid a noisy world. For some, a haircut is a chance for light conversation; for others, it’s their longest human interaction of the week. But for introverts like me, the option of silence is a blessing. All I ask is that more hairdressers offer this choice. Please, I beg of you: cut the chat, as well as our hair.