Let’s be honest—tipping your hairdresser can feel like a mini anxiety exercise. You sit down for a haircut, blowout, or color, and the second the payment screen swivels toward you, all your math skills vanish. You end up punching in a number that feels… safe-ish, hoping it’s not rude.
It’s not that you don’t want to tip generously. Sometimes you walk out looking like a completely new person, and all you want to do is throw money in the air like you’re in a movie. Other times, you ask for “just a trim” and end up with something that screams post-breakup energy—and suddenly you’re tipping out of guilt, fear, or maybe respect.
The general rule people throw around is 15% to 20%. But does that cover just the haircut? What if your stylist also blow-dried, curled, or talked you out of a questionable idea? Does emotional labor get tipped? Probably.
I remember one stylist who stayed two hours late to fix a mess left by another stylist. She didn’t charge extra—just wanted me to feel good. I panicked and tipped like half my rent, mostly out of gratitude and a little bit of fear. Then there are times when the haircut is fine, but the vibes are off. Should you still tip full price for effort, or quietly exit and hope they forget your name?
Budget matters too. Sometimes you can only spare $10 even if you feel the tip should be higher. That’s okay—future-you will understand.
And it gets trickier depending on the service. A simple wash and trim? That’s different from a full color correction, which takes hours. Even if the stylist acts like a bang trim is the same, it’s not. Then there are the extras: scalp massages, careful neck cleanups, little finishing touches that aren’t technically part of the appointment but make all the difference.
If you’ve been going to the same stylist for a while, tipping becomes about consistency and care. They know your cowlick, your preferred length, your subtle quirks—things that never show up on the receipt but are worth something. Probably more than I’ve been giving.
And don’t forget: many stylists pay booth rent, buy their own supplies, and work six days a week. For a lot of them, tips are a huge part of their income. Once you know that, tipping feels… heavy with responsibility, but important.
At the end of the day, I tip what I can, more when it’s exceptional, less when it’s not. Sometimes I over-tip to avoid awkwardness. Sometimes I under-tip and feel guilty for days. Nobody teaches you this—you just learn one uncomfortable payment screen at a time.
Anyway, my hair looks decent today, but I can already feel the mental math creeping in for next time.
