Yesterday I realized I had puntas abiertas up to my orejas. That means I had split ends up to my ears. Yuck. Time for a haircut.

I got my last trim in January before I left for Madrid. I knew that wouldn’t last me until the end, but figured I’d hold out as long as possible and spend haircut money on things like trips to Italy. Or sangria…

But almost four months without a cut is synonymous with disaster in terms of my curly mess of hair. I looked around online for a peluquería, or hair salon and found what I thought to be the best deal: a 24 euro cut at Luis&Tachi.

Yesterday afternoon I strolled into an empty Luis&Tachi on the Calle Alcalá. It’s a chain, only mildly swanky, but swanky enough for the guy who took my coat to give me a skeptical look when I took the tie out of my unwashed, untamed hair.

Then my stylist, María, sat me down in the chair for a champú (shampoo). She asked me if I wanted a hydrating champú. Of course! I won’t lie and say I’ve taken wonderful care of my hair while I’ve been here. And did I want conditioner? Yes. How ‘bout detangling serum? Surely.

Then came the cut. Do you want me to dry it? Um, why wouldn’t I want you to dry it? And for the style, you want me to do it straight? Why not. I’m going to put some anti-frizz products in there, too, OK? Yeah, do whatever you want, María, you’re a professional and I am incapable of keeping my hair under control.

An hour later I had a brilliantly chic, straight, face-framing look. (I relish in these after-style moments because I know I could never recreate them myself.) Satisfied? Yes, muchísimas gracias!

And then I got the bill.

The cut was 24 euros. But that hydrating champú was another few euros. And the conditioner, another few. And a blow dry? That costs extra, too. My ticket had a bunch of red checks next to the services I’d received and products she’d used. It tallied to 50,10 euros. (Let’s try not to convert that to dollars, please).

Granted, María did ask before she did anything to my ravaged hair. And my hair is kind of like Ground Zero even on good days. But I was not expecting to rack up that much of a tab.

Then María told me my hair was really dry and that I need to take better care of it. Ain’t that the truth. But then she tried to sell me that special champú and serum for 54 euros, and I politely declined.

I really miss my $35 wash, cut and style at my regular Highland Park salon with my favorite makeup-wearing male stylist. Sigh.