Each night even before the rush hour traffic reaches its peak, crowds are already descending on the area to kuangkuang chieh—to window shop—and check out the stores and ubiquitous street vendors selling everything from pierced earrings (for males and females) to foreign language video movies, with perhaps a pause for a Wendy's Hamburger followed by a French pastry, Italian coffee, or Swenson's ice cream.
A walk through the area, dense with people and sidewalk vendors, is about as easy as carrying a canoe through the Smithsonian s Air and Space Museum on a summer weekend. It is not a place to be in a rush.
The area is alive with more than shoppers shoppers-there—there are those eagerly awaiting the masses with high hopes of selling products or services. One of these is Ben Ho, a hair stylist, which is a radically new profession for a Chinese male. Barber, yes, but hair stylist? Ho is an example of the altered perceptions of acceptable occupations in Taiwan, and symbol as well of a new sort of entrepreneur becoming common throughout the island.
The Taiwan business scene, which has long been known for one-person and single-family entrepreneurial operations, is being augmented by individuals with specialty training who hire a small staff to assist them with raking in the cash. Ben Ho, an architectural student who turned from building to hair design, falls into this category. Like other young people starting their own businesses, his workdays are long and his assistants dedicated.
Salon Butterfly is on the seventh floor of an elegant new high rise a few short blocks behind the hot corner of Chunghsiao and Tunhua Roads, where the bright marquee of a Benetton store announces to the commuters jammed in traffic that there is life after chipao, just come in and trade those high stiff collars and slit skirts for eye-blinding red, yellow, and green sport sets. But Ho's shop does not compete in the display-window draw category—he has essentially no off-the-street trade; over 90 percent of his schedule is filled with appointments referred by previous customers.
Appointments? Even in contemporary Taiwan that sounds almost unreal, especially in Taipei which has literally thousands of barber and beauty shops open 12 to 14 hours a day, many of which actually do cut and design hair. But despite the competition, Ho and his two assistants have a heavy daily schedule, an indication that his skill in the field is exceptional.
"We can't ignore the existence of the popular hairdressing chain stores that employ many hair stylists, assistants, and serve many customers," Ho says, "but when we talk of real design and true respect for human nature, our specialty of an appointment-oriented management makes a big difference to our customers. They are now much more conscious of their time, and don't like to wait. Besides, when clients pay US$35 for a visit, they expect to receive the best kind of service. What is more important, however, is that when they're in the shop I'm totally dedicated to giving them the best service and politest attention. "
Nearly seven years ago, when Ho was fully expecting a career in architectural design to materialize, the fates determined otherwise. In order to earn money for college study in the U.S., Ho moved to Hong Kong in search of training in a profession that would help support his studies. He expected to earn his degree after being accepted for study in the U.S., and do it in a fashion common for Chinese students: pan kung pan tu, working half-time and studying half-time. In this case, however, his apprenticeship in a Hong Kong hair styling shop suggested a line of work not before taken seriously. He found that his job was far more interesting than his proposed study.
Beyond the actual intricacies of mastering rapidly-changing hair styles, Ho was attracted to the clientele in the Hong Kong salon where he worked. The shop's owner was skilled enough to attract many of the colony's top movie stars, and Ho found he enjoyed rubbing elbows-and scalps-with the famous. Before long, the works of Christopher Wren and I.M. Pei seemed less compelling than turning dull, lifeless hair fraught with split ends into works of living art. He decided to copy the Hong Kong salon in Taipei as soon as he finished his apprenticeship, and forget about college studies.
Ho's shop is definitely a small operation so far. The limit is four customers at one time. Unlike some salons where the apprentices do all the simple perms, Ho believes that any stylist worth his scissors should be involved in each step of transforming a scruffy head of hair into an aesthetic masterpiece. He says this attitude also helps build the confidence of his clients. "If you come in today and want to have a permanent wave, who do you want to wind your hair on the curlers, the stylist or the apprentices? A dedicated stylist has to cut, perm, and dye the hair himself. An apprentice should only wash and dry hair, except under the strictest supervision."
With only two assistants, it is easy for Ho to maintain quality control and give unusually intense attention to his customers. This has been the key to success; satisfied clients bring friends to his shop, so he has no need to advertise. The workdays are busy, but Ho's management is innovative when it comes to weekends: he and his staff do not work on Sundays, and they take holidays off as well. This is considered highly unusual in workaholic Taiwan, where most retail and shop people are lucky to have two days off per month, and often less.
Ho says that having time to relax and to attend church services is an essential part of his life. He is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, which now has more than 12,000 members locally, and considers participation in church activities more important than just making money. During the workdays there occasionally is time for a break, and he and his young female assistants enjoy watching video movies on the shop's television set when they can. But even then, work and the profession are on Ho's mind.
"We have a long and winding road to go before we can change the impressions of local people towards hairdressers. Abroad, hair stylists have a better reputation; they are in a recognized profession. Not in Taiwan, however. You are still considered to be a bit low class here if you work as a hair stylist." There are some substantial reasons for this attitude. Ho explains: "Frankly, I can't blame people for this. A close look at the situation shows that there actually is a problem of quality." And it is the quality angle that Ho finds most challenging—he wants to demonstrate through his own work that hair styling takes skill and unique ability. When more hair stylists have better training, and when people recognize their abilities, he expects the reputation of the profession will also increase.
Currently, however, Ho says that too many hair salons lure customers with attractively decorated shops, and with elaborately—and bizarrely—dressed stylists who work with exaggerated intensity in front of large street-level windows. While this might bring customers in the door the first time, it is the final result that counts. Ho's salon emphasizes a "complete" hair styling approach that considers the customer's requirements and desires, and does not just treat each head of hair as an experimental playground for today's hair style fads.
"It's just like doctors, businessmen, or any other professionals," Ho says, "would you respect them if they were not performing their actual jobs? We as hair stylists are like artists-we should first understand the internal beauty of the customer, then match it with outward appearance. Just giving an exotic haircut is not an art."
Ho's comments on matters of professionalism ring true. Beyond the thousands of salons already in existence, a local management consultant company study recently indicated that there is an increase of approximately 60 to 90 salons every month in Taiwan. With such a high growth rate, and comparatively few vocational schools for training hair stylists, a substantial portion of the new salons are actually staffed with people who have undergone very brief training periods with less than professional guidance. This large community of untrained hair stylists plying the trade does not help the profession's reputation. It usually takes three and a half years of apprenticeship before one can become a first-class hair stylist, and many of the local salons are far from reaching that level of careful preparation of their staff.
Reflections on a successful illusion—short hair made to appear long. Good enough to fool the judges.
After Ho returned to Taipei from (Hong Kong, he initially worked in the hair salon at the Howard Plaza Hotel, one of Taipei's top hotels. But working for a hotel management team cramped Ho's style. He decided to leave and set up his own shop for two key reasons: he wanted to be free to attend church on Sundays, and he wanted to design the interior of his own workspace. As a result, in 1985 he left the hotel and opened his salon in the Chunghsiao East Road area, and hired two assistants. Having suffered under somewhat insensitive management himself, Ho is careful not to make the same mistakes. He treats his two assistants, who are in their early 20s, like younger sisters.
"Employees are often taken advantage of in Taiwan. I definitely disapprove of those bosses who push them to work long hard hours of overtime just to make money. You have to give them time to relax, and treat them with a loving respect. For me it's not a simple relationship between employer and employee. My assistants are also my friends. I'm happy to train them, and help them become independent individuals," Ho says.
Both women receive longer New Year holidays than is common in other shops, and Ho carefully teaches them the skills of the profession, linking his ideals with action. Every Thursday night is "model night." Ho's assistants are encouraged to bring their relatives or friends to the shop to have their hair styled. As the assistants work on their acquaintances, Ho stands nearby, giving occasional instructions. Every three months he gives the two a test, and when they become proficient he expects to promote them so they can be hair stylists themselves.
Hou Pei-jun, a 20-year-old assistant who has been nearby during Ho's explanation of his professional ideals, agrees with her boss's management and training goals. When he is briefly out of the room, she says: "I have been here for more than a year and I've already learned a lot from Ben. Even if I had another choice, I'd still prefer working in this warm little salon. Our boss is a considerate man. In the future, if I get an opportunity to open a salon myself, I'll follow his style, though of course I won't be exactly the same." Her eyes express the entrepreneurial spirit, and fit her own desire to become her own boss, a lao-pan.
The times are ripe for entrepreneurs in Taiwan, for the economy is awash with money. Ho says there is a big difference between customers now and a decade ago. "Today, no matter what type of customer patronizes' salons, they no longer mention the price—fair or not—and the prices are very rarely cheap." This is true of his own shop as well, but as long as his skillful fingers do not disappoint them, customers are always prepared to pay the costs, and come back later with their friends. As a result, Ho is planning to expand his salon and add a sideline service: fashion accessories to go with his customers' new coiffures. He figures three more seats are exactly the right number to give full play to his talent while at the same time keeping his management system operating in line with his ideals.
As his visitor prepares to leave, Ho begins preparing a hairdo for one of his most important customers, a contestant for a local beauty contest. The strikingly beautiful young woman has a problem: her short hair does not complement her elegant evening gown. To give the illusion of long hair sculpted close to the scalp. Ho uses more than a hundred hair pins artfully arranged across the back of her head. Like a magician, he transforms the mod short hair into an elegant coiffure. and confidently says "this will give her at least ten more points!" The next day's newspaper supports his claim; she has entered the finals following the evening gown portion of the contest, confirming Ho's entrepreneurial optimism, training, and skill—a combination that reflects larger trends in Taiwan's job market development.