I met my friend Laurent in the CBD for a coffee yesterday. I was hoping for a two-way catch up but it ended up being the usual deal: him launching into a never-ending rant about his latest fling. I allowed it to go on for a quite a while before gently steering the conversation towards his hair – I know from experience that I can firmly capture his attention by telling him that it’s looking a bit flat.

Once I’d gotten him onto the topic of hairstyles, there was no getting him off it, and he quickly became convinced that he needed a new haircut. Grateful for any diversion from the subject of his romantic dramas, I agreed to accompany him on a mission to discover his new favourite hairstylist in the Melbourne CBD.

The first couple of salons we stopped by didn’t have any spots for walk-ins, but we finally found somewhere in St James Place that not only had an appointment, but also met Laurent’s exacting standards of minimalist decor. The stylist engaged was only too keen to support my contention that Laurent’s hair could do with more volume, and to turn him onto a whole raft of Aveda hair products (which, granted, looked pretty good).

I felt a little bit bad that I’d roped my friend into spending all this time and money on his hair purely as means of changing the topic of conversation. Then again, it’s not my fault he’s so vain that he has no internal filter for remarks about his appearance. It also wasn’t my idea for him to immediately go hunting for a hair salon.

It must be said that be looked smokin’ when the stylist was done with him – the new cut inarguably reflected what he’d paid for it, so much so that I’m thinking of booking in for a trim there myself. Maybe Laurent’s not the only vain one around here.