What a joy to be back on the grooming circuit

But as time went on, it became apparent that I was in the minority.

As the weather warmed up, people packed away their loungewear. As Shabbat meals, social occasions and synagogue services resembled a pre-Covid life, the community celebrated by dressing up once again.

This dawned on me when I turned up to a children’s birthday party in leggings and sandals, only to be greeted by friends with fabulous blow-dries and stylish, floor-length dresses.

I swiftly arranged a trip to the Bicester Village shopping outlet to re-vamp my wardrobe. But more immediate steps needed to be taken.

I returned to the salons neatly lined up across Golders Green. To look at the options from afar, you could be forgiven for thinking that competition for clientele is high. Yet most manage to be filled with Jewish women who flock in from across north-west London — and, sometimes, beyond.

Strategically placed near the kosher butchers, bakeries, and restaurants, there is a warmth, buzz and familiarity that would be hard to reciprocate elsewhere.

In one way or another, you recognise most customers. It is here that you will meet friends, and friends of friends, that you have not seen in years. It is there that I have got the numbers of trusted suppliers that I still depend on to this day.

There are the nail salons that perform an immaculate £20 shellac manicure in 40 minutes. Pick the right one and you will only have to walk to the back of the shop to find the lady who can perform a full body wax, followed by a neat eyebrow-thread. A short distance away in Temple Fortune are hairdressing salons.

Here you will find ladies of all denominations, from young Orthodox girls to Israeli women, greeting the handsome hairdressers by name in a bid to secure an appointment for the £15 blow-dry they forgot to pre-book.

One welcomes me back, after more than a year, with a warm: “Shalom Sandy! Ma shlo-mech?” (Hello Sandy! How are you?) You see, Hebrew is not his first language, but he knows his audience.

They all do. That is why they have retained the loyalty of the community and vice versa.

They understand its intricacies in a way that no white-walled, classical music-playing, overpriced salon in central London ever could.

Still, I am often surprised at how much they do know.

Before my wedding, I was prepped ahead of the customary visit to the mikveh. Approaching the beautician, armed with a wax strip, I said that every hair needed to be removed in accordance with halacha.

“Oh, you are going to the water?” she said. “I have ladies who come for this, every month.”

Later, I tottered off to the male manicurist, about to explain that all varnish and cuticles too needed to be removed ahead of the ceremonial ritual.

“Don’t worry, I will make it very clean,” he said, whipping out the nail buffer.

The same understanding extends to the hairdressers, where I overheard an Orthodox teenager push for more hairspray so the curly blow-dry lasted over Shabbat. He already had the bottle in hand.

In a nearby dressmaker, the seamstress promised to lengthen a skirt for a client with extra material, without making it “too nebby”. We both smiled at her fluency. “I have worked here for more than 10 years, of course I know the language,” she shrugged.

So here it is, an ode to this micro-industry.

They have not forgotten us — and I intend on conveying my thanks, on a weekly basis.

See you at the salon soon.