The Foundations of Great Hairdressing

By Andrew Cobeldick

There’s a moment I always come back to — late nights in the salon, sweeping up after a long day, hands stained with colour, my shoulders aching, but my heart completely full. That moment, right there, is where I fell in love with hairdressing all over again. It’s not just a job. It’s not just scissors and hairdryers. For me — and I know for many of you — it’s a craft, a calling, and honestly, a bit of an obsession.

When I think about hairdressing, I think of it like sculpture, painting, storytelling. Each head of hair is a blank canvas, and each client brings something different — not just in terms of their look, but their energy, their confidence, their story. Our job as hairdressers is to interpret that story and reflect it back in a way that feels true to them, but also carries our creative fingerprint.

I’ve always said, before you become “good” at hair, you have to learn to see hair. That means looking past what’s there and understanding movement, balance, texture, light. These are the foundations — the building blocks — of great hairdressing. They take time, patience, and so many failed attempts. But they’re what separate technique from artistry.

And don’t get me wrong, the technique is vital. It’s the skeleton. But the soul of this craft? That comes from somewhere deeper. It’s how we blend instinct with education. It’s the difference between “just another haircut” and a moment that actually shifts how someone sees themselves. We hold so much power as creatives behind the chair. It’s sacred. It’s personal. And it should never be taken lightly.

When I train apprentices or run workshops, I don’t just want to teach them “how” to do hair. I want to ignite that fire — that hunger to explore. To push boundaries, find that why and To mess up and find their own style through it. Because true hairdressing isn’t about chasing perfection. It’s about chasing expression. That’s where the good stuff lives.

Over the years, I’ve found myself drawn more and more to the art side of the craft — editorial work, sculptural shapes, storytelling through style. But I still find just as much meaning in a beautiful soft wave, or a precision bob done right. That’s the beauty of this work: whether you’re doing something avantgarde or classically clean, if it’s done with care and intention, it’s art.

But like any art form, it’s not always easy. There are seasons of burnout. Times you feel stuck or uninspired. There are clients that challenge you, jobs that drain you, and trends that test your integrity. In those moments, I come back to the basics — my own version of the building blocks. My tools. My discipline. My eye. The small rituals that keep me grounded and connected to the craft.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned over time is that being a hairdresser is less about always being on, and more about always being in tune. In tune with people. In tune with your environment. And most importantly, in tune with yourself. If you’re disconnected from your own creativity, it shows. That’s why looking after your energy, your curiosity, your education — that’s the real long game.

For anyone reading this who’s early in their journey, I want to say this: you don’t have to be everything all at once. Learn the foundations. Honour the classics. Watch how the hair moves when you cut. Listen to your mentors. Ask questions. Then one day, start to break the rules — but with purpose.

And to the seasoned stylists who’ve been behind the chair for years — don’t stop exploring. Your best work might not be behind you. It might be just around the corner, in a new technique, a shoot that scares you, or a student who reminds you why you started.

Hairdressing is not just about trends or likes or client retention. It’s about building something honest with your hands, your eyes, and your voice. And when you give your full self to it — even when it’s hard, even when it’s messy — it gives back in ways no other job can.

To me, that’s the real art of it. And I’m still obsessed.

Andrew Cobeldick @andrew.cobeldick