Led Astray by a Haute Hairdresser

Dina, please forgive me. During the 10 years that you’ve clipped, spiked and gelled my hair in L.A., I’ve never strayed, betrayed or played with the notion of cheating on you. I have been devoted to vous--and only vous.

That is, until now.

You see, I met Emma, a stylist at Paris’ hottest clip joint, Morphocoiffure, in the tres trendy St. Germain des Pres area on the Left Bank.

I know. I know. From the tippy top of my two-timing chunky highlights down to my rotten roots, I’m a follicle philanderer. But I’m not alone. There are lots of us here getting our mops morphed in this futuristic-looking salon painted off-white. White-uniformed stylists are stationed in spots called cabins that look like something you’d find on “The X-Files.”

In less than a year, Morpho has become the buzz in the City of Light as well as the place to get a buzz cut, massage, facial or steam bath. Word of mouth about the salon’s down-time philosophy, Zen-like UFO hair stations and friendly attitude (They like us Americans here! They really like us!) has generated franchise interest from London to New York to L.A.

But Parisian singers, actors and athletes--and regular folk--mainly come here because of its peaceful, quiet atmosphere. You can hear a bobby pin drop in this place.

Psst, come closer: And get this, there’s no attitude here. No blaring dance music. No gossiping customers. No one plying you with beverages. No shampooer gabbing about the night before at a dance club. And, best of all, no stylist acts more important than the client.

At Morpho, the ambience is quite aromatherapeutic, with scented candles flickering, hot tea simmering and serene, lullaby-like New Age music (they sell the stuff) soothing the soul as well as the scalp.

“Getting a haircut should be a time for one to relax, not be stressed out or rushed,” explains Isabelle Meigne, the salon’s spokeswoman.

“As soon as a person walks through the door, we want for him or her to decompress.”

Here everyone whispers and walks on tiptoes. Words like “harmony,” “serenity” and “balance” are painted on walls, reminding customers that maybe now is the time to get to the . . . umm . . . roots of wellness.

But it’s really the hideaway cabins--curtained half-circles of privacy--that are attracting word-of-mouth clientele.

“People crave privacy,” Meigne says. “In Paris, when you go to a salon, there is no privacy. Salons are loud with music and people gossiping, like a party.”

At Morpho, says manager Raphael Maronas, “there’s very little talking, except for the consultation before the cut,” and even that is done by a computer that matches face shape and personality to hairstyle.

“As you can see, except for the cabins, we have no other mirrors in the salon,” says Maronas. In fact, the only mirror in the reception area is set on the floor against a wall, providing more of an artsy effect with the reflection of feet.

“This used to be a car repair shop,” Meigne says of Morpho’s location. “Now, in a way, we repair people.”

Pencil me in for a tune-up before I return to L.A., I tell Emma. And while you’re at it, let me have some candles and tea. I’m gonna have a lot of groveling to do next time I see Dina.

*

E-mail Michael Quintanilla at socalliving@latimes.com.